Vi veri veniversum vivus vici
by Aesculap
Summary: Castiel died fighting off the Archangel. But he is alive again. Who brought him back? Why? And is he really human now? Sam and Dean are struggling with the truth - and with a very confused Angel Set a few Days after 4.22, Sequel to 'Reunion'
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is the sequel to Reunion

* * *

The next morning, Castiel was conscious again. It was strange seeing the Angel injured and in pain. He almost looked human. Around 9 o'clock Sam returned. Relaxed, happy. And Dean wondered what had happened. Of course Castiel was back, but Sam had not been upset enough by the revelation of his death to justify this reaction. He himself on the other hand... Dean did not fully understand his own feelings. On the one hand he could hug everybody in sight. He was more than glad to have the angel back. His pain-in-the-ass - no, his stick-in-the-ass guardian Angel. But that wasn't everything. There were more emotions, still unnamed because Dean was too afraid to think about them. Speaking of fear: he was definitely afraid. Cas was hurt! He was not supposed to. Did that mean he was human? Did that mean he'd fallen? Lost his Grace? Was an outcast like Anna with a bounty on his head? But he could not exactly ask Castiel all those questions. Not while he was still full to the gills with morphine and all the good stuff - at least not while he was still on the respirator...

Sam held two cups of coffee when he entered the room. However, he would never tell his brother he had gotten laid that night and really felt way better since. He had made no conscious decision to smile, but even if he had spent all night doing research in stead of - doing research, period... The sight of his brother still holding Castiel's hand would have made the corners of his mouth twitch nevertheless. It was a peaceful and surreal picture. And Sam wondered if that was how other people experienced the Winchesters' former stays at hospitals. Dean was sitting quietly vigil while... Normally it would have been Sam in the bed being watched by his older brother. A bit of jealousy blossomed inside the younger Winchester's heart. But Castiel was hooked to an IV, still on the respirator with at least a broken nose and arm. Neither did he want to swap places nor could he feel anything other than pity for the former Angel in the long term. And Sam was sure Castiel was no Angel anymore. How else was he supposed to be able to get that badly injured without healing instantly... Wait...

Dean was taken aback as Sam suddenly put down both cups of coffee in front of the older Winchester and turned to Castiel to remove the yellow striped blanket in a swift motion. The smaller man was dressed in a short white hospital gown that somehow fitted the picture of an Angel more than crumpled trench coat and suit. But then again his chubby knees and hairy legs were nowhere near how an angel should look. "What are you doing?" he asked, completely puzzled as Sam grabbed one of Castiel's arms and gave it a close look nearly touching the pale skin with his nose in the process. As he didn't respond instantly, he asked cautiously: "Christo?" Sam didn't flinch. But he did snort.  
"Dean, I'm not possessed. Come on, help me."  
"What are you looking for?" The older Winchester rose and closed the short distance to his brother with three steps.  
"Castiel is not healing."  
"Thanks for stating that, Captain Obvious."  
"Dean, just once in your live, think. He is not healing, but if he'd fallen wouldn't he be reborn as a baby? So he still is an Angel. And we are back to the question why he's still injured."  
Dean's eyes lit up with realization. "A spell?"  
Sam nodded. "I'm searching for some kind of mark..."  
"Because a hex bag or amulet or stuff like that surely would have already been removed by the staff." Dean continued his brother's sentence and Sam finished: "And therefore would not be able to affect him anymore. Check his feet and don't forget the soles."

Both brothers searched together mutely and Dean enjoyed how they were on the same page again. Until he noticed there was one spot they hadn't checked. A spot he would rather not take a look at. "Uhm... Sam... how can we be sure the hex mark isn't there..." The younger Winchester groaned as he saw his brother point at Castiel's crotch.

They wordlessly agreed to never talk about the following minutes. Sam stood at the door making sure no one would interrupt them while Dean hesitantly lifted the hospital gown. He really wanted to drop it hastily only a second later. Great. Now the image of - so not thinking about it! Now the image was forever etched in his memory. If there ever was an awkward situation in his live it was this. The tube coming out of - not thinking about it, not thinking about it - it made him wince in anticipation. He had had his fair amounts of catheters to know that it did hurt - regardless what the doctors claimed. But now he was supposed to touch Castiel's - not thinking about his penis - Damn!

Sam did not notice Dean's suffering. He had a steady ear on the door. Their badges would only explain so much, but groping an unconscious patient would even get two Feds into serious trouble. So he was understandably relieved when his brother was finished and went to the little bathroom to thoroughly clean his hands.

"Nothing." Dean shrugged while the water ran down his hands. "And what now?"  
"We have to wait for him to wake up. You talk to his doctor and I'll try to figure out how to make this room Angel and demon proof. Try to convince them we need Castiel out ASAP. Even if I try to paint a few protection wards behind the picture or the clock it surely won't be enough and we are just two people. We can't guard him 24/7 for longer than perhaps a few days."  
Dean dried his hands of and returned to his brother while agreeing: "Yeah and even if, whoever is hunting Cas... The chance that they've seen the article too is very real. I think we actually might 'receive the first visitors' today. So we better take a hike pretty soon."

Sam had finished scribbling a protection symbol behind the clock and was about to draw the last few lines on the back of the small picture that had been mounted on the wall above the Angel's bed when Dean returned. The older Winchester was wearing a smug grin as he closed the door. "A comprehensive victory." Sam raised an inquiring eyebrow and waited for his brother to continue while he put the picture back. "Well, not only will the doc take him off the respirator so we can talk to him as soon as he wakes up - what hopefully will be happening somewhere in the next hour or two - but we can take him with us first thing tomorrow morning if they 'don't set any major complications'. And I've got a date at 8pm."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam did not know what his brother had told the doctor and how he had talked her into releasing Castiel the next day. But hearing about all his injuries, he was not even sure they were qualified enough to keep the Angel alive. Somehow the doctor thought he himself was some kind of medic and so particularized each and every of Castiel's lesions and how they had treated them. Of course he would get the clinical record but the younger Winchester didn't plan on reading it. Frankly, it was hard enough to follow the doc now. He did not even understand half the terms she used and he could only hope he nodded in all the right places. A broken nose. Two cracked ribs. Three bruised ones. Major dermabrasion on both arms. A twisted knee. A moderate case of traumatic brain injury and a broken wrist that somehow reminded Sam of his encounter with the zombie a few years ago. Quite battered and bruised for an Angel.  
"What about his teeth?" he asked with a frown thinking of the bloody molar Chuck had found in his hair.  
"They are intact."  
"Really? None missing?"  
"No, why are you asking?" the doctor looked at Sam curiously.  
The younger Winchester shrugged and tried to come up with a plausible excuse.  
"One has been found and our people thought it had been his." Dean explained nonchalantly.  
"No, no. Definitely not. He still has all teeth."  
Dean shrugged: "We haven't had a DNA sample so we didn't know for sure. Poor guy surely has had enough - how do you think he got all those injuries, by the way? Did he... like fall from the third floor or something?"  
Now it was the doctor who hiked her shoulders. "We are not entirely sure yet. But it looks as if someone beat him up. With a blunt object. Honestly, it looks as if they were out to kill him but strangely they stopped before they could accomplish the task. As if they had been interrupted. Really a blessing in disguise. A few more blows and you would no longer have to worry how to transport him back."

Although he didn't feel a bit like smiling Sam tried to put a small, not too artificial, smile on his face and thanked the woman: "We really appreciate your straightforwardness. You have been a great help." She nodded, and after a few seconds of silence turned to Castiel. After a brief examination of the still unconscious Angel - man? - she removed the respirator.

"He should wake up any minute now. When he does please let the nurse call me. I know, you surely have a lot of questions that you are eager to have him answer but keep in mind he is still very weak." With a friendly nod to both Winchesters she turned to leave but Dean had a last item: "Hey, Doc! Have you got any tissue samples of John Doe? Because you know, they would have to be destroyed with him undergoing the witness protection program. I assume you will arrange everything that's necessary?" The doctor nodded with a small smile. "I'll take care of it immediately." She then left the room finally.

"Ok, Sam, you heard the lady. What do we need to be able to take Cas with us? And where do we get it?"  
"I don't know, Dean. Contrary to what you've made her believe, I am no medic. But I think a few cushions wouldn't hurt. I don't believe he will be able to stay awake the entire drive."  
"Got any specific destination in mind?"  
Sam shrugged. He had thought about that point but still was not sure. "We could head to Bobby's, although I don't think he'd like us showing up with Castiel there."  
"But we need a place to hide for a few days, and besides the demon-proof panic room Bobby's got a hell of a lot of books. And he knows stuff. Sooner or later we'd end up on his porch anyway. We'll drive to his place."  
Sam just shrugged. Dean had a point there. "How about you catch a little shut-eye and I stay here with Castiel? And in the afternoon we'll try to get a few supplies so we can leave tomorrow as soon as he is dismissed?"  
The older Winchester yawned in agreement. Sam was right. He was dog tired and needed a few hours of sleep badly. "I'll stay in the car. Call me if..."  
"Dean..." It was just a word. Muttered in a soft and hoarse voice. Barely audible. But it made Dean stop dead in his tracks.

Castiel blinked wearily at the brothers. He looked tired - even more tired than Dean felt. And there was fear in his eyes. Fear that made his next whispered words even more urgent: "We must... leave... now!" Both Winchesters exchanged glances and while Sam looked ready to grab the Angel and make a bolt for the car, Dean had a few objections. "Cas, you've just woken up, the doc said she can't dismiss you before tomorrow and even then she's got still a bad feeling. And frankly, I don't think you'd make it even to the door. And..."  
"Dean. They're coming..." With each word Castiel got more worked up and upset. He struggled to kick back his duvet and sit up, his face grim, lines of worry - or pain - deep around his blue eyes. When he grabbed his infusion and was about to rip the needle out of the crook of his arm, Dean stopped him. "Whoa, Cas. Easy! You really mean it, don't you? Who's after you? What happened?"  
The Angel grabbed the older Winchester's arm and hoisted himself up in a sitting position. He obviously sat up too quickly for Dean had to steady a very dizzy Castiel for a few seconds.  
"Sam, are there any clothes? Or shoes?" While his brother searched for something to dress, the older Winchester carefully removed the tube connecting the Angel's arm with the infusion bag.  
"No time... talk... in your car." Dean felt the Angel was slipping again. Pain and exhaustion pulling him down into a deep sleep. But there was nothing the older hunter could do against it. Castiel didn't want to talk before they were on the run again. And neither he nor his brother would have been able to keep him from running away if he really deemed it necessary.  
"No clothes and no shoes, sorry. But I found a coverlet." Sam dropped the soft yellow cloth on the bed. It looked fluffy, soft and cuddly. Like it did not belong here. "Dean, you take the car to the back entrance and I wrap Cas up and carry him out as quickly as possible."  
His brother nodded. "Sounds like a plan."  
"But first... remove the catheter, please."  
Dean grimaced. "Why me?!"  
"Because you've already touched him there."

Sam felt like he was carrying a giant burrito. A giant Angel burrito. With a mop of unruly dark hair showing where no beans or cheese or salsa were used as filling but a human - or angelic - being. It was a somewhat weird image. Although the Angel was much shorter than Sam and lighter built than both Winchesters, he got heavier by the minute. Sam could not take the elevator and had to use the stairs. If someone - anyone - spotted him... There was no way Sam would have been able to outrun someone with his heavy... snack... Fortunately, he could avoid running into any other person on his way out. The impala was waiting - engine already running - only a few meters from the steps leading to freedom. Sam stumbled on the short stair and nearly dropped his cargo. He sprained his ankle but then Dean was next to him, taking the huge burrito and stuffing it - him - whatever - into the backseat. They were already half a state away when there was movement under the yellow blanket again.

Dean stopped the car next to a small forest and both brothers turned around to meet Castiel's weary but otherwise wide awake blue eyes.  
"How ya feelin', Cas?" Dean asked although there were more urgent questions on his mind.  
The Angel furrowed his brow and said softly: "This body is... hurt. I am not used to this sensation... It is very unpleasant. I cannot even breath without my ribs aching."  
"Because they are broken," Sam explained, "and as soon as they hurt more than they do now or as soon as something else hurts, please tell us. It could be something serious."  
Castiel nodded, an expression of mild confusion on his face.  
Dean could no longer hold back and asked the first of many questions waiting for an answer: "Do you remember what happened at Chuck's? We found... Angel giblets all over his place. And even a mole inside his hair."  
"I died." Castiel answered matter-of-factly as if he was talking about the weather.  
Dean shot a glance at his brother but was met with an equally wide eyed look. No, he'd heard right. "You died?"  
"Yes. I tried to hold back the Archangel. As anticipated I was... no match for him. Although, I believe... I could delay him... long enough." Castiel started to sound a bit breathless and Dean knew it was because of the broken and bruised ribs troubling him.  
But still, he could not let it go. "So you died. But, you know, you don't really look like how I pictured an angelic corpse."  
"I was revived."  
"By whom?" Sam asked. "God?" Dean was willing to forgive the guy a lot of the shit he had dropped on the Winchesters' heads if he had had the decency to bring Cas back . But they were both met with silence. Pregnant silence.  
"Oh... crap..." Dean mouthed his horror eloquently.  
Sam was apparently on the same page: "You mean... Lucifer...? The devil? Why did he bring back an Angel?"  
Castiel carefully lowered himself again onto the backseat with a sigh. "I do not know." He had already said too much. He was not going to blurt out more.


	3. Chapter 3

About an hour after Castiel had fallen asleep again, Sam took the wheel. Dean was beat. He didn't even need his sunglasses although the warm evening sun lit the car up. He was already fast asleep when Sam accelerated again.

There was a man. Handsome, approximately in his mid-thirties, with a warm and genuine smile.

"Why am I here?" Dean asked and noticed something was not quite right with his voice. But with this being a dream he did not question it any further.

"Because I wished you to be here." The other man's voice was nice, soothing. Somewhere between Sean Connery and Harrison Ford. In the background there were voices too. They whispered. In Latin - but still Dean could understand. "Animus et corpore... et odie... tibi tuus et maxima... sanctus deus ...liberus." He did not get everything because the guy in front of him was capturing nearly all of his attention, enthralling him, enchanting him. Lighting up the darkness that otherwise would have threatened to swallow him.

"I died. Why did you bring me here?"

"You are not dead, yet, my brother." Although that guy didn't resemble Sam even in the faintest he knew that they were siblings. Himself being the younger brother. Huh?

"That I have noticed but I fail to discern the reason for my presence." Ok, this was definitely nothing Dean would say. Not even in a weirdo dream. The older Winchester looked at his body, his lithe hands, his white shirt, his dark trousers, the black shoes made of real leather - this weren't his clothes, this... this was Cas! Cas's vessel, Jimmy Novak! He looked up again.

"If you wish, you may return."

"Why," his mouth asked without Dean doing anything.

"Because we are not only brothers. Because we were friends once. Because I still love you. Even now, even after disobeying, you are still a brightly shining star. I do not wish for your light to vanish."

"You know I will fight you."

The man - Lucifer, Dean noticed with growing horror - just nodded with a pleased smile and took his... Castiel's hand. "My dear brother, beloved Castiel, I wish you no harm but if you choose to fight against my forces I can no longer help you. I will not be able to spare you. But please know that hurting you is the last thing on my mind." Dean was taken aback by the sincere concern in Lucifer's voice - dammit! This guy was the fucking devil for god's sake!

"Lucifer..." Castiel started, but the other man interrupted him by shaking his head.

"You do not need to say anything, just know the next time we meet only one of us will live."

Suddenly the surroundings changed. He was no longer next to Lucifer. There were others... five or six, he was not sure. Dean tried to open his eyes all the way but there was something making his lashes stick together. He blinked a few times unsuccessfully. The hunter could not move either. His arms and legs were bound. To some kind of... rack.

"Dean. Wake up." Sam's voice was soft but next to his ears it prove loud enough to rouse him.

"Sam? What...? Where are we?" The engine was no longer running and it was dark outside. Looked like the parking lot of a...

"At a motel. I've got as a room but I need your help with Cas."

Castiel, right. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes willing the sleep and the strange dream away before he turned to take a look at the sleeping figure at the backseat. Castiel was tossing and turning. Mumbling unintelligible words - or perhaps it was just a language Dean did not know.

"Looks like a nightmare..." his brother stated with sympathy.

"We better wake him up before he hurts himself. Hey, Cas! Cas! Wake up, pal!" Dean dared not to shake the sleeping Angel but only a moment later Castiel opened his eyes wide, both hands clutching the upholstery while he tried to slide away from the brothers. A panicked expression on his face and his eyes glazed. Somehow, while trying to flee from whatever he was seeing instead of the Winchesters, he must have made a wrong move because suddenly the Angel was gasping for breath, panic giving way to pain. "Cas, calm down. It's ok. You're safe. Just breathe, ok? Breathe." Talking to the Angel like to an injured animal proved to be the right thing. Castiel calmed down again and after a few minutes his body went slack.

~*~

They had to carry him inside, glad that this place was deserted and that no one was taking a walk in the moonlight or some crap like that. After they had laid the unmoving body on one of the two beds, Dean told Sam of his strange dream. "I'm not sure... You know... I really don't wanna freak out or something, Sam, but this did not feel like a dream."

"You mean you actually talked to Lucifer?"

"No. Not me, but Cas. Do you think this was some sort of weird dream-walking-shit?"

"I have no idea - Angels don't dream, do they? But is Castiel still an Angel?"

Dean nodded. "He's still not told us why he's changed. Why he can't heal Jimmy anymore."

"We should ask him as soon as he is lucid again."

~*~

It was at sunrise that the Angel woke up again. Dean was sitting next to him in the bed, head resting against the wall, heavy eyes watching both sleeping figures. Too many thoughts had kept him awake. Questions and theories were chasing each other. Dean yawned and noticed the body next to him stirring. Castiel groaned softly and in the next moment his blue eyes were piercing into Dean again as if nothing had happened. As if he still was the no-shit-I'm-an-Angel-of-the-Lord-show-me-some-respect Angel who always kept a stiff upper lip. "Hey Cas, ya hungry?" he asked as he got up. It was one thing sitting so close to a sleeping person with their butts touching, but it was a totally different thing with a wide awake Angel. Castiel frowned in deep concentration and then simply nodded. Another thing that was weird. Castiel eating? Not going to happen - except now Dean could witness it first-handedly. Apparently the Angel was hungry. He ate everything the hunter found in their duffel bags. Sam would have to grab something for him and Dean as soon as he was awake again.

After the Angel had finished breakfast and was resting his head on the wall, the way Dean had done only half an hour ago, looking better, sated and drowsy again, Dean sat on the foot of the bed determined to get at least a few answers before Castiel would fall asleep again. "Hey, Cas. There's one thing Sam and I can't figure out. And I think after eating my breakfast too, you owe me something. So you think you could answer a few questions?"

The Angel looked genuinely sorry. "I did not mean to commit petty larceny of food. Are you starving now?"

"No sweat, Cas. Just tell me something. What's up with your angel-mojo? You're not fallen, are you? So why don't you heal Jimmy's body?"

"Jimmy perished." Castiel stated dryly.

"You mean…"

"He is no longer inside this body. He died while I... was killed." Although the Angel still sounded unfazed Dean could see the pain in his eyes. Castiel mourned the loss of Jimmy Novak.

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"He was redeemed."

Dean dried to shrug off the dread he was feeling. "So... having cleared that up, back to my question. About your angel-stuff..."

"I am still an Angel. I did not fall."

"But...?"

"But... I am no longer a member of the Host. I am a renegade."

"With a death sentence on your head like Anna?"

Castiel nodded gravely. "Therefore you should leave me here. If my... kin find you in my company it would end unpleasantly." He averted his eyes, studied the old blanket draped over his body.

"No chance. Forget it. The only reason you're an outcast now is because of me. I'm not gonna let you down, Cas. That's what friends do for each other."

Castiel raised his head again, looked into Dean's eyes and the hunter could spot hope blossoming inside them.

"I'm not going to let you down. If the Angels want to fight you, they will have to fight us too. But it's important you tell me exactly what you're still capable of."

The Angel breathed deeply, wincing when broken and sore ribs moved. "I'm still an Angel but I no longer should use my powers. As soon as I do so my bro... they will know where I am hiding."

"But you still can heal yourself?"

"I am not sure. I haven't tried. I know there are some things I am no longer capable of because it was the Host granting me those powers."

"And you don't know which?"

"Dean, I have never been cut off from the Host. I simply do not know." the Angel explained sounding a bit impatient.

"And what do we do now?" Sam joined the conversation. He looked as if he'd just woken up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Hey, mornin' Sammy." Dean beamed and his brother automatically watched out carefully. "Cas is feeling better. And... he might have eaten everything we had. You could grab us some breakfast. I want pancakes."

Sam's answer was a thrown pillow Dean could have dodged easily. But instead he let his brother hit him with a grin. "Don't forget the syrup!" When he turned to Castiel again the Angel had fallen asleep once more. The hunter sighed. At least he'd gotten some answers.

~*~

Dean was still thinking about what he had learned and what that meant for their next steps when the doors started to rattle and the ground to shake. Blinding light was shining through the windows and a piecing sound slowly built in force. Fuck! They were coming!

* * *

AN: Now I'm off watching 5.01 and how Kripke brought Castiel back :)


	4. Chapter 4

The door to their motel room was flung open and a strong gust of wind made Dean raise his arm to shield his eyes. Only seconds later were the light and the storm gone. Instead Zachariah and two other dicks in disguise were standing only a few meters away.

"Hello Dean." Zachariah said, all smug and grinning. "I see you've found something we've lost. Thank you. But now we'd like to have Castiel back."

"No way, chuckle-head."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I make you believe you had an actual choice? Like it or not, Castiel is coming with us."  
"No. Take your two bloodhounds and just fuck off. Cas is stayin'. Right?" Dean turned to the Angel again and noticed with horror how Castiel was trying to breathe but instead there was blood dripping out of his mouth. The Angel had both hands pressed around his throat as if to prevent anyone from choking him but to no avail. His eyes were huge, pleading, full of terror and begging Dean for help.

With a sweet and at the same time sardonic smile, despite the continuous wet, choking noises, Zachariah started: "You see, we have ways and means that..."

"Knock it off!" Dean interrupted the Angel. "Why are you torturing him? Your guys already killed him, so just..." He heard a hollow thud and hurriedly turned around to find Castiel lying on the floor motionless in a growing puddle of dark blood. "Cas? Dammit! Cas?! CAS!!"

~*~

"Dean... Dean! Please... wake up. Please!" Castiel's voice sounded small - and full of panic. Dean opened his eyes and blinked a few times. They were still in their motel room. Castiel was alive and... Dean was lying next to the Angel in the small bed. He had no idea how he had ended up here but right now he didn't care. Castiel was pale, breathing heavily and staring at him wide-eyed on the verge of panic.

"I... I think I've just had a nightmare, Cas."

"A nightmare? You were dying!" The Angel clutched the hunters hand and refused to let it go again.

"No, just a bad dream." Dean tried to reassure his shell-shocked friend. "This happens from time to time..." It was impossible to work his hand out of Castiel's. Dean stopped his efforts and gave his attention back to the shaken Angel.

"But I saw Zachariah... He... He was torturing you because I disobeyed again. He... liquified your lungs. Dean, you were dying in agony. I witnessed it!"

Dean eyed the Angel, surprised. "Ok... that's weird. That's exactly what I was dreaming about except you did the dying."

"You mean, I have just experienced a dream?" piercing blue eyes bore into Dean. The Angel obviously could not wrap his head around it.

"Yeah, but what's bothering me is not you dreaming but you and me dreaming practically the same shit. I think we should take a hike as soon as Sam's back. You stay in bed, I'll get our stuff ready."

Castiel sank back onto his pillows and watched Dean. His heart was still beating frantically and his head was spinning. A dream. Although he had never dreamed himself, Castiel had witnessed a few dreams of other persons. He did not know why and how both of them could dream the same thing at the same time but Dean was right. It bore witness to nothing good. They had to leave immediately.

They had not unpacked most of their things so getting it back in their duffels was done in a few minutes. Only moments later, the familiar rumble of the impala told Dean his brother was back. Sam found them both ready to leave when he opened the door. He did not ask, simply took in Dean's haunted expression and helped him get the injured Angel back into the car. Then they were back on the road again.

~*~

"You know, Dean, I've thought about what Castiel told you." Sam said while searching through his duffel for a tissue. They had just stopped next to the road for a short pee break while the sun was setting again.

"And? Any revelations?" Dean said in a mocking tone while grabbing a beer from the trunk.

"I'm not sure... Castiel said he might be still able to heal himself. But if he'd do so the others would know where he currently is."

Dean nodded curious to learn what this was leading to while he opened his bottle and took a huge gulp

"What if we'd make a room Angel proof. You know all the Angel repellent sigils we saw in the warehouse where we'd found Jimmy. Castiel should be able to use his Grace to heal himself, shouldn't he?"

"Yeah..." Dean nodded slowly. His brother was right. "It's worth a try. I've seen a ramshackle house a few minutes back. It looked deserted. We could try our luck." He shot a glance at the sleeping figure in the backseat. Hopefully Castiel would be back to his old self in a few hours.

Dean downed his beer and entered the car again while Sam started his laptop. "I'll try to figure out what we might need but I think we won't be able to successfully ward the house without Castiel's help." Sam studied the injured Angel through the rear-view mirror. "I hope he's able to stay awake long enough..."

Dean shrugged. "Has to. And by the way, the meds should have worn off these past hours. Perhaps that'll help too."

They entered the short gravel road leading to the front of the ramshackle house the brothers had noticed earlier. Everything was dark, no lights inside or outside the building. Dean grabbed a flashlight and let it's cone illuminate the boarded-up windows and a door that had been unhinged ages ago. This house really was deserted. The front lawn was rampant and untended. The garden gate was pure rust. Meanwhile Sam had opened the trunk and packed everything they would need in a bag. "Hey, Dean. I'll check out the house, you take care of Castiel." The younger man shouldered the heavy bag and took their second flashlight. Dean nodded silently and turned to the car again.

Their stay here would not be pleasant. With their current luck, the roof would decide now was a good time to collapse or something equally delightful he was sure would happen. Like the floor collapsing. Dean shrugged. They had no other choice. He had to hope for the best. The car door made a small squeaking noise as the older brother opened it carefully. Castiel was still sleeping. Soft snores escaping his open mouth, the yellow blanket wrapped around his body and a tiny trail of drool coming from the corner of his mouth made him look not like the ethereal angelic being he was but like a mere human guy. Dean felt a breath hitch inside his chest. He carefully reached out and stopped himself at the last moment from touching the Angel's cheek. Instead he let his hand rest on Castiel's shoulder. The other man did not even stir.

"Hey, Cas. You have to wake up now."

The Angel slowly opened his eyes a tiny bit and turned his head to the hunter. "Dean...?" His voice was soft and low, husky from deep sleep.

"I'm sorry, but... You have to wake up, Cas. Sam's got an idea. Perhaps we know how you can heal yourself without the others finding you. But you have to leave the car." Dean really was genuinely sorry. Poor guy could not even sleep properly.

Castiel blinked a few times and mumbled, "I... I might need a hand leaving the car."

"Sure. Just take it easy and tell me as soon as you're ready."

~*~

In the living room there were too many rotten pieces of furniture but Sam found a small room in the back of the house, not much more than perhaps 3 meters long and about equally in width. It had only one door and no windows so they could cover all walls with symbols. The rusty iron frame of a bed was the only thing still inside the closet. Otherwise it was empty. Sam put the bag with their stuff down and tried to lift the metal but it was too heavy for him to carry it out without further help. Sam shrugged. They would just have to work around it. He opened his laptop and connected it to the internet. Hopefully Castiel would be lucid enough to ward this room on his own because Sam didn't even know where to start searching for Angel-proof wards. Unfortunately, the last - and only - time he had seen those very symbols had been when he was heavy on blood-withdrawal with no mind for remembering - or even writing down or taking pictures of the sigils. He was just about to open his mailbox when he heard heavy steps approaching and soon Dean, who was literally carrying Castiel, appeared in the door frame.

"I think this room is our best option. Access to the walls and no junk except the bedframe." Sam said and deleted a bunch of spam mails.

"Cas, you ready to start?" Dean asked the Angel with sympathy. He was standing next to Castiel who was leaning on the wall refusing to sit down.

Sam joined them, chalk and a flask of holy water in hand. "You just have to tell me what to do, I'll take care of everything else." He too felt sorry for the injured Angel. He could clearly see he was in a considerable amount of pain and still bone tired. But with a little luck they would be able to change that very soon.

"No, the wards won't be of use if you paint them. They have to be done by an Angel. By me and with my blood." He gestured at both items Sam was holding.

"By an Angel?" Dean frowned in confusion. "Like the holy piss-off-sign?"

Castiel turned his head a bit so he was looking directly at Dean. "You mean the sigil I used to..."

"... send Zach packing? Yeah, exactly." Dean interrupted the Angel. "I happened to use that one a few days ago again. Drawn by me. With my blood. And chuckle-head and his two trusty sidekicks were gone for good."

"You banished Zachariah and two other Angels?" Disbelief was clearly written all over Castiel's face.

"Yeah, I did."

"And, "Sam tossed in, "he said a few things to them that made Zachariah really mad."

"I thought you were dead, I was pissed!" Dean defended his actions. Thankfully it was dark enough so no one noticed the blush spreading over his cheeks.

"It should not have worked. Regardless of your emotional state." Castiel averted his eyes and studied the wall in front of him as if there was something written there. "We should talk later about that. Now I have to ward this room. I cannot risk the sigils being weak or even useless. I will draw them. But I might need your help. My surroundings have not settled yet."

Sam shot his brother a questioning glance and Dean translated with a shrug: "He means he's still dizzy. World spinning and stuff."

"Ok... Cas, you're sure you won't need anything except your blood?"

"I am, Samuel."

"I'll put our stuff back into the car so we have more space here. You call if you need anything. I'll be back in a few minutes." Sam waited for his brother to nod shortly and then started to pack the bag again.

Castiel leaned heavily against Dean while he smeared blood across the first wall. The hunter did not recognize this symbol but tried to memorize it for further use as he prevented the dizzy Angel from keeling over to one side. The sigil was not quite finished when Castiel softly told Dean: "I won't be able to seal this room completely off. The wards will cloak a specific amount of my... 'angelic energy' you might say. So I won't be able to heal everything but I might succeed in healing most of my injuries. I am not exactly sure how much the sigils will shield off so we should leave swiftly as soon as I am finished. Are you really sure you want me to do this, Dean? Are you really sure you want me to stay..."

"Cas, I am sure." Dean interrupted him softly. "I owe you. Just... finish your paint job. We can talk later. 'Kay?"

~*~

It took them nearly half an hour - not much time considering they were trying to get this room Angel proofed but it was more than Castiel had been awake for until now without falling asleep. In the end it was Dean holding the Angel upright, and if Castiel would have allowed it, Dean would have done the painting too. Sam was nervous. Standing with a loaded shotgun at the door watching the small room and the empty house likewise. As soon as the Angel was finished the older Winchester lowered him onto the floor where Sam had spread the yellow blanket and retreated to his brother. They were both ready to shield their eyes but nothing happened. Castiel was just lying still. No angelic light, no sound, no gust of wind, nothing. Then Castiel sighed heartily, took a deep and long breath and sat up. "I am finished. We should leave now." He swiftly stood - and keeled over before he had even made a single step. Dean helped the Angel up and prevented him from falling down head first again as Castiel shook his head clearly confused. "Still feeling dizzy, huh? We just have to make it to the car. I'll help you."

~*~

They had reached the highway about a minute ago and Dean looked in the rear-view mirror to catch a glimpse at the slumped figure in the backseat when he noticed a light inside the house they had just left. "Dammit. I think, the wards weren't strong enough, Cas." Dean floored the gas pedal.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sam, give me your knife." Castiel sounded frantic and commanding enough to the younger hunter that he didn't think about and simply handed Ruby's knife to the Angel.

"What are you doing, Cas?" Dean demanded to know while keeping one eye on the street and one on the illuminated house in the rear-view mirror. Obviously the Angels were checking out the ramshackle building they had left only minutes ago. The older brother was nervous and jittery, anticipating an attack at any second. And Castiel playing with a sharp knife while he was flooring the gas pedal on a street with questionable pavement in the middle of the night did nothing to soothe his nerves. One bump and... "Cas?"

There was an audible hitch in the Angel's breath before he cared to answer what sounded like through clenched teeth: "I am warding your car..."

"No way you are bleeding..." Dean began, angry, but Castiel interrupted him, sounding a bit breathless.

"I am sorry, but right now I do believe our well-being weights more than the undoubtedly precious upholstery of your car." In the rear-view mirror the older hunter could see the Angel's dark form reaching up to the ceiling and drawing something with his fingers while he continued to reason with Dean: "As soon as I have finished, this vehicle and its occupants will be shielded from prying eyes of both demons and Angels. Albeit the blood has to stay... Perhaps it might prove prudent covering it up with something. Otherwise, bystanders could begin to ask inconvenient questions..."

With clenched teeth Dean drove on until a minute later Castiel started to talk again. But this time his voice sounded... sheepish?

"I am very sorry. I am afraid I might have forgotten I am no longer capable of healing my wounds..."

Dean sighed before he took a look at the figure in the backseat again and frowned as soon as he saw the Angel was clutching his left arm. "Don't tell me you are really bleeding all over the upholstery, Cas!"

"You wouldn't happen to have something to stem the blood loss?"

Dean groaned and stopped the impala while Sam had already gotten the small first aid kit from his bag. The older hunter was about to open his door to go to Castiel when Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Dean, Cas said we are safe inside the impala."

"Great. Now we have to crawl in the back?"

"Looks like it... You're smaller than me. You go. I'll..." Sam gestured at the wheel and waited for his brother to nod.

Although Dean was reluctant to let his brother drive he had to acknowledge that Sam had a valid point. Not only was Dean not as huge as his Sasquatch-sized brother, but they were still way too close to the house with the angry Angels inside. Sam could drive on while he would tend to Castiel's injury.

~*~

Dean tried to clean the vicious looking cut on the Angels forearm but blood kept seeping out quicker than he could wipe it away. "Dammit, Cas! I think you need stitches."

"I am sorry. I got... carried away with the urge to protect us. I forgot I can no longer heal myself as easily as I used to." The Angel sounded genuinely contrite.

While Dean still tried to figure out if he could manage the sewing while Sam was driving, his brother said from the front seat: "No sweat. You'll need time to adjust."

"No sweat... of course not. But a hell of a lot of blood..." Dean muttered while wrapping up the long cut with gauze. It would have to be enough for the next few minutes.

Soon after they entered a city, lights illuminating the dark night and the impala's interior.

"Hey, Sam! Try to find some kind of drive-through... McDonald's or something. We should be going for at least another hour and I think we all are beat and could use some caffeine. And we need to stop in the next few minutes anyway. Slicer-boy here needs stitches pretty soon." Dean had noticed Castiel becoming slightly paler in the last ten minutes. Although Dean did not believe the Angel had lost too much blood he knew what a steadily bleeding wound could do to an already unstable circulatory system.

Castiel kept muttering something in Latin Dean did not fully understand . "Pater noster", "Te adoramus" and "Halleluiah". It somehow sounded like a prayer.

"Cas?" Seeing that the Angel did not react after a few seconds, he cautiously put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. The soft touch made the smaller man flinch violently before he turned his head to the hunter.

"Whoa, easy, Cas. Just wanted to make sure you're still with us."

"I am, Dean. No good will come of leaving the car. Much less the warded and still moving car," the Angel answered softly. "I will stay with you as long as I have to."

The last sentence made Dean frown. "You make it sound as if it's an annoying liability."

"It is indeed my duty. You rescued me and therefore endangered yourself. I will protect you as long as deemed necessary."

Dean sighed. No point in discussing the meaning of duty and debt with an angel. So he changed the topic to the question he wanted to ask in the first place: "How ya feeling, Cas?"

"Still 'dizzy' as you call it."

"You will be better as soon you are patched up and have eaten something." Dean gave the Angel an encouraging smile.

"I do not consider eating a rewarding proposal."

Dean looked at the Angel with raised eyebrows. Just once he wanted Castiel to give him a clear, direct and understandable answer.

The Angel sighed and shot him a ... pleading look. "I do not feel well."

Dean's eyebrows moved even higher. "You mean you are queasy?"

Castiel simply nodded.

"You're not gonna barf?" Dean knew his voice sounded suddenly all tiny and shaken but - damn - this situation was so surreal!

"No, I do not believe I am going to be sick. But I do not want to stress our luck either. So no, thank you. No food for me."

~*~

Ten minutes later they were at the almost deserted parking lot of a small McDrive, the car filled with the marvellous scent of fresh coffee. Castiel had scooted nearer to the now opened window while Dean tried to sew the Angel's forearm together again. Dean was not sure if the fresh air really helped as Sam had suggested or if it was the simple fact that the car had stopped moving but Castiel looked better - despite the pain. Each sting made the Angel shudder softly but Dean could tell he was trying his best. Castiel's teeth were clenched together and the muscle in his jaw twitched. He decided to distract the Angel's attention.

"Hey, Cas, you are still an Angel, but without your mojo what should we... What can you still do and what not? Are you still stronger than Sam and me?"

Castiel answered with a quiet nod obviously not wanting to elaborate any more.

Dean was still thinking about what to ask next as his brother - who was still obviously on the same page - helped him out. "What about your brothers? Can you still hear them?"

"No. When I dispelled Zachariah and helped Dean escape I was banished from Heaven. As an outcast I am no longer able to hear my... kin. It... it feels lonely without their constant voices." The Angel frowned, eyes looking at something long lost in time, his voice was soft and small as he continued in a contemplative tone: "It is the first time I am... alone. Truly alone. I have no family, no friends, no home I can return to. I've lost everything... for nothing. I sacrificed my whole existence in vain. Lucifer has risen. Armageddon is here and your world will be in ashes soon. All of Heaven and Hell are after me... and you. We can not possibly hope to escape their wrath..." Emotions raged on Castiel's face, although it was clear he tried his best to fight them. Anger, fear, loneliness, desperation.

"Cas... Cas, I know it's not all sunshine and ice-cream but you are painting a rather dark picture here. First the Angels have to find us and with your help we will be able to avoid them." Dean finished wrapping gauze around Castiel's arm and tried his best to give the Angel an encouraging gaze. "So. In a few days you're going to be as good as new." He put as much false cheer into his words as he could muster but the Angel only frowned.

"Here. Take these." In Dean's palm were two whitish pills Castiel now eyed wearily. "They'll take the edge off." Since the Angel still did not reach out, Dean continued: "For the pain. Just take them already!" At last Castiel took them reluctantly, popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with a sip of coffee from the hunter's cup. He didn't know whether the Angel's disgusted look was because of the pills or the black coffee.

Dean downed what was left of his cold coffee and put it back into the paper bag where Sam's finished cup already was before he gestured for his brother to start the car again. "Cas, close your eyes and get some sleep."

"Angels do not sleep."

Albeit less than five minutes later the hunter could watch Castiel's eyes drop and his head sink to his chest. Dean tried his best to position the softly snoring Angel in a comfortable way although he was sure in the morning Castiel's neck would be stiff and his shoulders wound tight. After all, sleeping in the car still was a bitch.


	6. Chapter 6

It was still dark when Castiel opened his eyes again. The car was parked in utter silence next to a small wood, filled with the regular breathing sounds of both Winchesters. The Angel's forearm was throbbing dully and he felt hot. The impala's windows were tarnished with moisture. Slowly he sat up again feeling how queasiness became nausea. Castiel hastily opened the door and was on his knees on the ground as he started heaving.

~*~

When both brothers woke up again the morning sun was shining down on them, heating up the black car. Still it wasn't as hot inside as it should have been - because one of the doors in the back was open.

"Dammit, where's Cas?!" Dean was out of the car in an instant.

Sam followed swiftly and nearly stepped into what looked like relatively fresh vomit. "Didn't he say he was feeling queasy?"

Dean joined his brother, slowly bending down and studying the puddle closely. "There are marks. Looks like someone dragged him away. Into this direction." He pointed to their left where fields spread as far as the eye could see.

"Dean, get back in the car! I'll check what houses or other buildings are near but we're not save outside."

~*~

It only took Sam two minutes to check Google maps. Four farms. Two looked deserted. Dean started the engine and followed the way - because that was no street! - to the first buildings with a speed that tossed gravel in all directions. Both brothers knew they had no time to lose. Regardless of who had captured Castiel they surely were not going to invite him for tea or something.

~*~

An hour later they were searching the third farm - a deserted one judging by the looks of the buildings. When Sam found a decent Suzuki in one of the hovels they knew they had to be extra cautious.

Slowly, the brothers cleared each building leaving only the basement - always the basement! Dean stealthily descended the wooden stairs closely followed by his brother. He had not even set a foot on stable ground again as the first demon jumped him. A massive knock to his head sent the older Winchester down and before he was on his feet again Sam had quickly dealt with the attackers and stabbed the demons with Ruby's knife. Slightly swaying, Dean pressed a hand to his forehead and felt blood tickle down.

"You ok?" Sam whispered, trying to keep an eye out for other adversaries while checking on his brother.

"'m good... Just a small cut. Dammit, those guys were sneaky!"

Dean wiped his bloody hand on his pants and picked up his gun again before they continued to sneak through the basement.

They didn't have to search long to find Castiel. Dean opened an old metal door and instantly knew they had found his friend. The walls were covered with bloody symbols very similar to those Castiel himself had used only hours ago.

The Angel was bound to a huge cross, hands and legs nailed to the wooden surface in the same way Jesus was on every crucifix the hunter had ever seen. Countless sigils were carved in his skin - some familiar, some not. But the thing that captured Dean's eyes were the Angel's wings. Unlike the first time Castiel had shown them to him, this time he didn't only see mere shadows. They were huge. Translucent. Like the projection of a picture against a wall. Shining so brightly the hunter's eye hurt but still not even illuminating the small room. Two massive nails held each one firmly in place, looking as surreal as the blood seeping out of the wounds and staining the feathers, solid against the eerie wings. Castiel was obviously unconscious and the water canister full of blood standing next to him didn't make the picture less disturbing.

~*~

It took both brothers to free the Angel without harming him any further. Dean was bathed in sweat and Sam was breathing just as hard as they slowly lowered the lithe body to the ground. Castiel's clothes were gone. Only the black boxers Dean had lent him were still on him. Although it was nearly Summer down here, the air was chilly and Castiel's skin felt cold to the touch. But he was still breathing, Dean noticed thankfully.

"Dean, get the car as near to the door as possible... and take the canister."

"No, I'll..."

"Dean, I'm bigger and stronger than you, I'll carry Cas." Since his brother still looked unconvinced, Sam added: "And you are the better fighter. I don't see those two demons capable of keeping Castiel captured. Even in his weakened state he'd have wiped the floor with their asses - heck, you've seen how easily they went down yourself! We have to be prepared for more of them to show up any moment."

Dean sighed, his brother had a point, a very valid point. With a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, he took the water canister and cautiously walked towards the stairs.

~*~

No one tried to stop them. No demon and thankfully no angel either. Getting Castiel inside the car and reasonably comfy on the backseat proved to be more difficult than they had anticipated. Although the Angel's wings looked somewhat ethereal they still were corporeal enough to cause problems. In the end the brothers decided they needed to roll another Angel-burrito, although pieces of fluff from the cozy blanket would probably be sticking to all of Castiel's wounds.

They were still about 3 hours away from Bobby's. Too far to drive without patching up Castiel first so they took a room in a shabby motel. Getting their huge burrito inside the room without anybody noticing was nearly impossible. Luckily, the one guy on the other side of the street who was looking in their direction just walked by.

~*~

While Dean tried his best nurse-routine - Sam was so going to die for that comparison - his younger brother fetched the needed medical supplies after calling Bobby. Hopefully the older hunter could somehow help them - even if he was just giving them pieces of advice. But the developments of the last two days were more than even the Winchesters were used to. Sam hadn't told Bobby that Castiel was back. The older hunter didn't exactly like the Angel...

~*~

Castiel had not even woken once as Bobby arrived. The Angel's wounds were clean and patched up but Dean had noticed that the knife cut had been inflamed, angry red skin on a slightly swollen forearm with liquid oozing out between the stitches. They would probably need Cas to perform his Angel-healing-mojo again. After cleaning up, he noticed that the carvings on his skin proved to be superficial enough so they weren't likely to cause much trouble. In any case Dean had smeared a layer of antibiotic cream on each of them. What he did not understand was why Castiel hadn't woken up till now. Luckily at least the wings had disappeared as soon as Dean had touched the first sigil on Castiel's chest.

When Bobby entered the room and caught sight of an unknown third person lying in bed he shot a questioning look at the brothers. Dean had turned Castiel a bit so now the Angel was no longer facing the door hoping they would be able to talk to Bobby first before he spotted the subject of their call for help and could rush in.

"Look Bobby..." Sam started.

"What do you..." Dean said at the same moment.

The brothers exchanged awkward looks, not really knowing how to gently tell Bobby about the mess they had gotten themselves into again.

"Boys, you started the Apocalypse! You really think there could be something able to top that?"

Of course he was right...

"Bobby, we need your help, " Sam started.

"I figured that..." the man grumbled.

"We kind of have Heaven and Hell on our heels..."

"Still nothing new, Sam."

Of course Castiel chose exactly that moment to regain consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** A bit gory and description of turture

* * *

When Castiel opened his eyes again he still felt sick to the stomach. It was dark around him, but the Angel's eyes were able to penetrate the darkness. He was in some kind of basement - a room without windows and stale air. He felt something warm tickle down his belly and lowered his gaze. Blood. There was a nasty gash across his chest. He had not felt the pain before and was not sure if he felt it now. Castiel was still dizzy, his head hurt with a fierce but dull pounding and somehow this entire scenario felt... like he was watching his vessel from outside, as an uninvolved spectator, not like the protagonist - or victim? - he was.

Castiel took a deep breath, tried to dissolve the fog covering his thoughts, but instead he felt bile rise as his sluggish brain finally processed his surroundings.

The Angel was bound to a wooden cross in the way Jesus himself had been. In the dark he saw a water canister full of blood next to his feet inside a huge circle, a different kind of sophisticated Devil's Trap glowing around him. His own blood had been used to draw this pentacle. It was a protective circle like the sigils and complex runes covering not only the walls but the ceiling and door likewise. Right now, Castiel was not able to place them. On second thought, not all of them were protective. He noticed protection from Angels, from Demons, from...

The Angel's incoherent thoughts were interrupted as he spotted a single demon entering the room. He carried what looked like a scalpel and a hand scythe, his face determined. He walked directly to Castiel, showing no fear or hesitation. Something about this demon was off, the Angel thought but he could not center his thoughts much longer because the man started to carve symbols into Castiel's flesh and the pain he felt was very intense, real, no longer detached and distant. He was cutting deep, injuring not only the human vessel but the Angel as well.

Castiel opened his mouth and started to scream as he felt the searing hot pain carving and slicing, tainting his very Grace. Pain and agony, the essence of the feeling filling his entire being.

The Angel did not notice how his real voice joined his vessel's and the very ground around him began to shake. Castiel's torturer continued his work, utterly unimpressed by the havoc the delirious Angel was causing. Luckily, there were no pieces of furniture, no windows to brake and the building itself was sturdy enough to withstand the assault.

Castiel found himself back in hell. Fire burning as far as the eye could see and still everything was cloaked by an all consuming darkness. Cries and shouts filled the stinking air, searing ears and lungs likewise. The Angel could not move, his incorporeal form suddenly solid and very human was bound to a kind of rack. A creature, once a man but now hardly human appeared next to him. Although he had never seen that particular human before the name Dean Winchester came to his mind. Castiel had found the Righteous Man - or more accurate the Righteous Man had found him. As the human started to peel away the skin covering the Angel's new body, he lost the ability to think coherently as agony filled every corner of his corporeal form and pain burnt away his Grace. The Angel was stuck, became just another tortured soul in Hell.

Suddenly something changed. Castiel needed a few moments before he knew what had happened. The pain was gone.

~*~

Obviously Bobby still hadn't realized who was occupying the bed because as the small and hoarse voice started to mutter _"Pater noster, qui es in caelis"_ the older hunter frowned and tried to look past Dean to catch a glimpse at the forth person inside the motel room.

"Who's that?"

_"...sanctificetur nomen tuum."_

"He's a..." Dean started

"Friend." Sam continued the sentence with conviction. His brother shot him a side glance feeling gratitude. Sam labeling Castiel as friend felt... right.

_"Adveniat regnum tuum."_

"Obviously a devout friend." Bobby noted still waiting for the Winchesters to spill their beans.

_"Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra."_

The younger hunters just nodded.

_"Panem nostrum..."_

"He kind of has the angels on his heels..." Dean started.

_"... catidianum da nobis hodie."_

"And demons too. They captured him and marked him." Sam continued trying not to wince as he pictured the carvings in his mind.

_"Et dimitte nobis debita nostra..."_

"Let me take a look..." Bobby said and took a few steps towards the bed until Dean stopped him.

_"...sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris."_

"Look, Bobby... He... he really doesn't mean any harm, ok?"

_"Et ne nos inducas in tentationem..."_

"Do I know him?"

_"...sed libera nos a malo...."_

Neither Dean nor Sam answered.

_"Quia tuum est regnum et potestas et gloria in saecula. Amen."_

Bobby closed the distance in two quick strides and pulled away the blanket. The older hunter inhaled sharply as he not only recognized the person lying on the bed but caught sight of the countless carvings, slightly red and still sore.


	8. Chapter 8

"That's the damn Angel!" Bobby exclaimed as soon as he had noticed Castiel.

"Bobby..."

"Ya said he's dead!"

"He was..."

"Doesn't look very dead to me, boy. Not very angelic either... What happened?" Bobby raised his head and looked at Dean demanding an explanation.

"Someone kinda resurrected him, I think."

"You think?"

"Sorry, we haven't much talked about it. There wasn't time..."

"Bull!" Bobby eyed him angrily, demanding to know the truth.

Dean squirmed a few moments before he finally admitted, "I figured he didn't wanna talk about it. Traumatising experience 'n' stuff..."

"And why is he in bed? Hurt? Decorated like that?!"

Sam sighed and began filling Bobby in before Dean could say anything else. The older hunter didn't like the Angel but Bobby was still here wanting to help them. He deserved to know.

~*~

Meanwhile Dean sat down next to Castiel on the bed and asked softly: "How are you? You scared us... Disappearing on us like that..."

"Sorry..."

"No, don't be, Cas. Wasn't your fault. You got kidnapped. Need anything against the pain?"

"Thank you. I am fine."

"Don't look like it... Your arm's infected. It would be better if you took some pills. And you should eat something first - if you think it'll stay down..."

Castiel nodded slowly and watched as Dean pulled a cylindrical package out of his duffel bag. With an embarrassed shrug, he handed the puffed rice cakes to the Angel, a slight blush creeping to his cheeks.

"Thank you, Dean."

"We stopped at some kind of grocery while you were asleep last night. Thought it would be good to have something easy to digest in case you still feel queasy..." he muttered sheepishly.

"I really appreciate your concern, Dean." Castiel replied softly his hand touching the other man's as he took the Styrofoam-like cake. It tasted pleasingly neutral. Somehow the strange thing was sticking to his dry lips. It was a funny feeling. Castiel decided he liked rice cakes.

~*~

"What's up with those two?" Bobby asked softly, having watched Dean and the Angel interacting with each other.

"What do you mean?"

Sam frowned in confusion turning to look at his brother and his Angel, too.

"Look at them. If I didn't know who they were I'd assume they are very close. Very close."

"As I've said, Castiel is a friend."

Bobby shrugged. Either Sam didn't want to see it or he just didn't want to talk about it. But right now there were more pressing matters than a love struck pair of human and Angel.

"You said you managed to free Castiel and escape."

Sam nodded.

"Sorry to break the news to you but they let you escape."

Sam frowned and was about to object when Bobby continued.

"Do you really think someone who manages to capture an Angel isn't capable of making sure he stays were he is, idjit? You even said it yourself. Only two demons and they were pretty easy, too!"

Sam had to acknowledge Bobby had a point.

~*~

An hour later the three hunters were having breakfast. Castiel had fallen into a restless sleep, his fever still rising. Dean was worried. Although the Angel's arm was infected, Castiel's body was responding way stronger than it should.

"We should ward one of Bobby's room off so Cas can heal himself. We've got the blood and I remember some of the signs he'd drawn."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I've made a sketch were he'd placed what sigil. We should be able to duplicate the design. But don't forget he wasn't capable of disguising all of the power he used. The angels found the house pretty soon after we left. So perhaps it's better to find another deserted building instead of pointing them to Bobby's."

The older hunter nodded in agreement.

"And what now?" Dean asked, glancing secretly at the tossing and turning Angel.

"Now we wait for me to find a fitting house. "Sam replied while he opened his laptop to use Google maps anew.

~*~

It became noticeably darker outside when Sam was still on the laptop. Dean turned on the lights and looked out of the single window at the parking lot. Clouds covered the sky. No patch of blue was visible any longer. Nothing hinted at the sun that had been shining brightly only minutes before. It looked as if it had been rainy all day. Dark sky as far the eye could see. No towers or mountains of clouds, just a formless grey mass that promised rain. Lots of rain.

"That doesn't look too good..." Bobby muttered next to Dean. "Sam, better hurry up."

A thick flash of lightning illuminated the sombre sky for a moment before the deafening sound of thunder made Dean nearly jump. Then the rain came down in buckets.

~*~

Nobody noticed the snake like form of red liquid on the roof of the black impala. Nobody noticed how it formed sigils and runes. Nobody noticed how the rain washed the red away only after each sign was completed. And nobody noticed the red stained puddles under the car.

~*~

Fifteen minutes later they had their abandoned building. Sam closed his laptop and started to pack their stuff while Dean awoke Castiel. Bobby watched him without ostentation. Dean was as gentle with the Angel as he would have been with his own brother.

Castiel was sitting on the bed, looking too pale and sick for Dean's liking, while he gave him a few seconds to shake the dizziness and get his bearings.

"We are leaving now, Cas. We'll ward an old house not far from here so you can do your magic-healing-mojo again."

The sound of splintering wood and breaking glass interrupted Dean. Two people were charging in through the door while another man was climbing through the window. Black eyes - demons! Two more followed the first ones and suddenly the small group was facing eight foes. There was no way they would be able to fend them off.

* * *

**AN:** A question to all readers: Who do you want to team up? Sam and Castiel or Bobby and Castiel? Don't forget to leave your vote!


	9. Chapter 9

The next thing Castiel knew, two Demons were trying to push and pull him off the bed. He was still too dizzy to fight properly against both of them but at least he could do something against one. The Angel extended his arm, touched the creature on its forehead and proceeded to burn the demon from the innocent vessel.

Dean saw Castiel going down after banishing one of their attackers and knew he had to help his friend - despite the one Demon who was just about to try and rip his arm off. The Angel was a limp figure that was pulled towards the window, obviously exhausted by that tiny display of angelic power. Dean ducked and used the force of the demon's attack to half throw, half push him on the other adversary successfully bringing both down to the floor. The hunter hastily grabbed his friend's arm, pulled the dazed Angel to his feet, and avoided another attack from behind by sheer luck.

Three demons against one hunter and an out of commission Angel. Dean knew the odds were against them. He quickly shot a glance at his friends but Sam was struggling against two demons of his own and while Bobby had obviously managed to pin one to the door his second adversary was throwing nasty punches at the old hunter.

When the world stopped spinning enough for Castiel to recognize his surroundings again, he was leaning against one wall while Dean struggled to keep three demons from stabbing, punching and hitting Dean. Although he moved with enough speed and grace that the Angel just wanted to watch this strange kind of dance, he knew the human was tiring quickly. There were seven demons left. Too many to banish. Even if they had patiently queued in line for him to burn one after another from their vessel he would not have been able to get rid of all. He was too exhausted. On the other hand, there were only three humans he needed to rescue. Castiel touched Dean and only moments after the hunter had vanished into thin air, one of the demons' knives was embedded into his comrade's vessel as the vile creature could not abort its attack quickly enough.

Sam was totally taken aback as he saw his brother disappear. The younger hunter didn't notice the demon attacking him until it was nearly too late. He made a hasty lunge and promptly collided with Bobby. His momentum shoved the older man directly into the arms of another demon who grabbed Bobby and threw him with such force against the next wall that he heard - hopefully only plastic - breaking.

Sam dodged another attack and noticed how Castiel struggled futilely against four foes. With two quick steps the hunter was behind one of them and planted his knife hilt-deep into the Demon's back who died with the regular demon-fireworks as Sam was already attacking the next one. All of a sudden he felt someone grab his shoulder, spun around and noticed too late that Castiel was the one behind. Sam too vanished into thin air, leaving a puzzled Angel with the demon killing knife's hilt protruding his stomach behind.

~*~

Sam jumped when his cell started ringing. He had just appeared a few seconds ago in Bobby's kitchen and nearly knocked over the table while dodging the imminent attack of a no longer near foe. With shaking fingers he dragged the phone out of his pocket and answered the call.

"Sam."

"Dean?"

"Where are you, Sam?"

"At Bobby's. Where're you?"

"Oh..."

"Oh?!"

"I think I know where I am."

"Dean!"

"I am... about 10 minutes from the junkyard. At the road. If I'm not mistaken..."

"Where's Bobby? Or Cas?"

"Not with me. Are you alone?"

"Yes, Dean. Nobody here except me."

"Okay... What happened?"

"Cas..."

"Damn, did that dumb Angel zap us?"

"He did. Saved your life by doing so."

"Crap, I hope they're all right."

"..."

"Sam? Do you know something I don't?"

"I might have gotten Bobby thrown into a wall..."

"Sam..."

"And Castiel stabbed..."

"Oh, fuck."

~*~

Bobby! . . Fuck! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cas, watch out! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Now you're gonna die, Angel!

Somehow the world was tilted to the right as Bobby regained consciousness. It took the hunter a few moments before his brain caught up with his surroundings and sound joined the Technicolor Display of Odd. He was in some back alley. Lying on the concrete. His left side hurt like a bitch and his right hip was on fire. In front of the old hunter, not more than one or two meters away the Angel was slumped down on all fours over a puddle of vomit retching weakly. Cautiously, so as to not to hurt anything additional Bobby turned his head searching for the Demons. But the alley was deserted. Only he himself, the damn Angel and a duffel bag of the Winchesters' were in here.

Bobby had no idea how they had ended up safe but he certainly was not under the illusion they could stay here and take a breather. Slowly the old hunter sat up, pain shooting through his sore right side as soon as he started moving. He did not know if he would be able to walk or even rise on his own account. In his hip was still a huge ball of fiery agony. Bobby hadn't noticed he was panting heavily, sweat running down his face when he felt a cool hand on his shoulder.

"We should leave now," the Angel's gentle baritone sounded next to his ear, "Do you require assistance?"

Bobby nodded and waited for Castiel to help him stand up. But as soon as the Angel moved and was standing next to the old hunter he frowned. "You might consider covering those decorations of yours."

The Angel nodded wordlessly and started rummaging through the bag pulling out clothes Bobby recognized as Dean's. As Castiel began dressing himself, the hunter noticed for the first time the blade still embedded in the Angel's stomach.

"Is that Sam's?"

Castiel shot Bobby a questioning look.

"The knife."

The Angel still seemed confused.

"Boy, don't tell me you haven't noticed someone stabbing you!"

Finally Castiel looked down and frowned on the weapon stuck in his body.

With growing horror Bobby watched how the Angel pulled the knife out of his body - slowly, centimeter by centimeter, face contorted in obvious pain, breath ragged - and finally the hunter noticed how spacey and dazed Castiel was. They not only had to leave this alley as soon as possible but they also had to find a safe place somewhere near. Because the Angel surely wouldn't be able to stay astir longer than a few minutes at best. And Bobby knew he himself was in no shape to carry the other man.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Sorry this chapter took so long. Two huge fics with deadlines in Dec. kept me busy. Next chapters will be up soon :)

Thanks for all the lovely reviews by the way :D

And I still don't have a beta so if anyone is collecting mistakes I sure have a lot to spare...

* * *

Father Ignatius closed the huge wooden doors after the last of the attendees had left the old church. He gladly discarded his clerical robe and changed into a worn out pair of jeans. Now only his collar was proof of Father Ignatius' priesthood. The lithe man looked pretty ordinary. He was in his early sixtieth, sparse hair still dark blond, crinkles deeply edged into his friendly face. He took a broom and started cleaning the huge Navis and Choir of the little Basilica

Father Ignatius was just about to finish sweeping behind the altar when one of the old wooden doors was opened. He squinted his eyes, tried to catch a look at the newly arrived but without his glasses he just could tell there were to people - men. One was supporting the other.

The priest left his broom behind and rushed to the entrance and his new visitors. If one of them was hurt perhaps he could be of service.

The men looked ragged. One older, with a dark brown beard, obviously in pain, was being supported by a much younger man whose clothes didn't quite fit and whose shoes were missing. Even without his glasses father Ignatius noticed something about that blue eyed boy was off.

"I am Father Ignatius. Can I help you?"

The young man answered and the priest was stunned. Never had he expected him to have such a voice. Deep, commanding, booming through the church despite his low volume. "We just need to rest shortly. We will not bother you, Pater."

"What happened?" Father Ignatius asked eying both men studiously.

"We were ambushed. By de..."

"Thieves." The older man interrupted the younger who immediately went silent.

The priest noticed how the blue eyed man swayed slightly before regaining his rigid composure once again. He was too pale, his skin a sickly tinge and his eyes tired and weary. It was just then that Father Ignatius noticed the dark stain on the young man's shirt, soaking the fabric and drops of red on the stone floor next to his shoeless feet.

"You are hurt!" The priest stated with growing horror. He had seen enough, he needed to call an ambulance!

"Wait!"

Without thinking Father Ignatius stopped dead in his tracks.

"Those... thieves are still after us. We need shelter."

Blue eyes bore into his and again without a conscious decision he nodded his agreement. The priest blinked in confusion. It was as if the young man commanded and he was bound to follow...

~*~

Castiel did not wait for the priest to sort his thoughts. He knew the demons were only a minute or two behind them. They would reach the church all too soon. Bobby was heavily leaning on his shoulder and with every moment he waited he felt his energy drain away, hot and fiery agony burning in his side. The Angel's surroundings already started to blur a bit only coming into focus again with noticeable effort.

"We have to ward this structure," he whispered soft enough that only Bobby could hear. "I am afraid the demons are about to catch up with us and there are still angels after me, too. I am really sorry you got swept up in..."

"Bullshit, Cas! You're a friend of Dean's so we're into this together. Now enough with the chatter, let's get started."

Castiel felt how the old hunter straightened and made a few steps on his own before he sank on one of the old wooden pews.

"Father, you don't happen to have a spare bag of road salt?" Bobby asked

~*~

As the priest returned with two small bags of salt the young man was painting something on one of the walls with his hands. Father Ignatius had not forgotten to fetch his glasses and put them on as soon as he had set the salt down in front of the older man.

While he was instructed to draw a steady line of salt in front of every opening, the priest studied his older visitor closely. His clothes were worn, holey and tattered as if he didn't care. Heavy boots on his feet and a baseball cap on his head. The deep lines edged into his face spoke of years of struggle but there were enough crinkles around the determined looking eyes that Father Ignatius was convinced he was a kind man at heart.

"Now would you mind hurrying up a bit?!" The gruff voice of the older man pulled the priest out of his musings. Of course, he had to salt a church. Although he wasn't sure why...

Father Ignatius had just finished drawing a line of rock salt in front of the huge front doors as he noticed the strange paintings on the stone walls. The dark red color left no doubt about what had been used as paint – blood. Even the smell of it still lingered in the air making the priest queasy. They had to be madmen! Although he had not noticed any malice, and normally his knowledge of human nature didn't fail him, this time it seemed as if... He had to call the police! Without the two men noticing.

Then the squeal of the side door's hinges resounded through the huge Navis and the next moment the priest's body hit one of the walls. He blinked in confusion, noticed three men entering his church and felt how suddenly his hair stood on end. They were pure evil. Even without those malign black eyes he had perceived them. Hell spawn. Pater Ignatius swallowed and started to pray.

~*~

"Sam."

The young man turned around hastily, nearly knocking over a chair again. He was no longer alone in Bobby's kitchen. There was a man, not as tall as he himself but nevertheless lean and good looking. Long blond hair pulled together in a pony tail, dark round sunglasses, a black suit jacket, a white roll neck, black jeans and expensive sneakers.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sam demanded to know while going into a defensive stance. He was prepared to burst into action any second.

"Oh, I think you know pretty well who I am. And I came to deliver my thank-you-card personally."

"Thank you? What for?"

"Don't play dumb, Sam. For freeing me, dumbo."

Suddenly the guy reached out and pulled a very startled Winchester into a passionate kiss. With tongue, teeth and everything. When he let go a few moments later both were panting heavily – for different reasons. Sam frantically opened a drawer and pulled out a long cooking knife, aiming at... at Lucifer. He suddenly felt very small and defenseless.

"Do not even think about repeating that!"

Lucifer licked his lips smirking slightly. "Sorry, I did not mean to offend you, Sam. As I said I am here to give my thanks. I know Ruby and those angels tricked you into releasing me. Still it was you who did all the hard work. I'd like to reward you. Help you and those you love to survive the Apocalypse."

"Why...?"

"You mean, why do I, the Devil, want to help someone? First of all, most of the things you believe to know about me are... how would you call it... bullshit. Bad publicity. The work of the Angel's PR department."

Lucifer walked a slow circle while talking, his gaze always directed at Sam, never leaving his eyes even for a moment.

"Of course, after banishing me, they spread lies. Told everyone I would devour small children and so forth. They made sure your people would fear and hate me. I am very sad they were successful, for I too am just a mere angel." Lucifer battered his eyelashes mockingly.

"And secondly, as I said, I am grateful. We both know the angels – and the roaming demons - will lay waste to your precious earth. Nobody will survive if the Heavenly Host has a say and I am afraid there is only so much I can do... But I am willing to give shelter to those humans that are precious to you. I do not want you to come to harm, Sam. Please, let me help you." Lucifer had slowly stretched out his arm while speaking and was touching the young man's cheek now.

"I know how it feels to loose a brother and I do not want you to have to live through that sorrow and grief again. Did you know I raised Castiel again after he was killed by one of our own brothers? You see, I really am not the bad guy the Church preaches, Sam. Please, let me help you."

Sam had closed his eyes, too much was tumbling down on the young hunter. Was Lucifer telling the truth? The angels the Winchesters had encountered so far had been dicks enough the Devil's words didn't sound that ridiculous at second glance. Had he really been the victim of one of the Heavenly douches? Sam took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, prepared to accept Lucifer's offer. They had to take every tiny bit of help they could get.

"There is just one small thing I want in return, Sam. It is nothing that will hurt your brother or Bobby. You see, this isn't a real body." The lean man pointed down at his slim figure. "I am just a mere shadow of what I used to be. A projection, you might say. But to fight Heaven, to protect your family I need more substance. I need a vessel. I need you."

"Me? You need a vessel?"

"I am still an angel after all."

"Oh..."

"There is just so much I can do while in this form. I have already warded your precious car. So none of the Heavenly Host would be able to sense your location as long as you are in the vicinity of this exceptional beauty."

"Now you sound like Dean..." Sam couldn't help but smile.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sam. Now, back to my offer and the small thing I request in return. Think about it. We'll meet again rather soon - I'd like to know your answer by then. Oh, and don't forget: as long as I am in this form you are at the Host's mercy. So stay near your car – _at all costs_!"

Sam was alone again, the taste of Lucifer still on his lips, the sound of his words still ringing in his ears.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This chapter contains spoilers up to 5.10!

* * *

Dean heard the familiar flutter of wings and turned slowly, not entirely sure what to expect. Perhaps Cas had somehow managed to finally get Bobby and himself here, too? Perhaps it was just a really huge bird? Of course it had to be the worst possible option.

"Zachariah." There was enough venom in Dean's voice to poison half of South Dakota's population at least twice. Or all of them once? However he had to fight hard not to spit that douche in the face.

"Hello, Dean. You and your brother are hard to find nowadays."

"Well, it just depends on who is looking for us."

The angel smiled his smug I-know-something-that-you-don't-know smile and made a point to look at their surroundings. "South Dakota... You are so predictable. All I had to do was have one single little angel watch over this area and voilà! There you are."

"Well, I'm not here to talk." Dean grumbled and started to walk towards Bobby's property again.

Suddenly there was something preventing him to take another step. At the same moment he heard Zachariah's voice from behind, "But I am. And therefore you will stay, too."

It didn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that resistance was futile – angels were even more annoying than the Borg – so he turned to the still smiling dick. "Hurry up, I've got other places to be, Zach."

The only sign of the angel's disapproval of the nickname was a minimal narrowing of his eyes. "Then let's come to the point, shall we? You, Dean, are the Righteous Man, as you already know. And you are needed to stop Lucifer. Not from rising because that obviously has already happened, but from walking free, winning this war, raising all of Hell and destroying your precious Earth for ever."

"Last thing I heard was that you dicks wanted him free so you could have your great showdown. The destruction of this planet and all human beings just collateral damage. So why do you suddenly need me and why should I believe your claim not to want our entire civilization in ruins?"

"Oh, Dean. You misunderstood..." Zachariah's voice was full of pity, explaining something obvious to a very dumb child, even more patronizing than before. "I never said we want your stupid little civilization to survive. I just said we do not want for Hell to reign for all eternity here on Earth. Of course while we fight there will be collateral damage, that's just how war works. But afterwards, there will be Paradise. And you will help us to ensure that this is what is going to happen. We need all of the archangels down on this precious plane to fight against Lucifer and his hell spawn. And not all of them have taken their vessels, yet."

Dean turned pale. Was Zachariah implying what he thought? The hunter felt himself turning cold suddenly and the world around him fading a bit as the angel nodded.

"You are Michael's vessel. You will stop it. You just have to give your consent so he can take you and defeat Lucifer once and for all."

"I'm not..."

"Oh, believe me, you are! There are ways and means to..."

Suddenly there was another voice. Male, too but also different. Speaking a language Dean couldn't identify. As he spun around to confront the newcomer there was a flash of light next to him so bright that he had to shield his eyes. When Dean was able to blink again Zachariah was gone. Still the hunter was not alone. There was a body of a young man on the ground, a puddle of dark red blood forming quickly next to a second man. Older than Dean, thin dark hair, expensive black three-piece suit, exquisite shoes and a maroon shirt with dark silvery tie. He looked at Dean who suddenly felt a shiver running down his spine. A demon. And not just an ordinary one judging by the aura of power surrounding him.

"Hello, Dean," he said with a thick British accent, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes as he tucked away a golden dagger and pulled an embroidered handkerchief out of his pockets to wipe away the blood that was staining his right hand. "I am afraid we don't have enough time for formalities. He won't be gone long. Is there any place I could drop you off? Preferably somewhere that's less likely to be infested by the Heavenly Twits?"

"Who the fuck are you?!" the hunter growled ready to attack with his bare hands.

"Name's Crowley. Nice to meet you too."

"Aziraphale here, too?"

"No, I'm afraid he's just a product of some author's fertile imagination. So if we now could please stop talking bloody bollocks and start actually doing something!"

Dean jerked at the sudden outburst and just nodded shell-shocked. A demon that had only just rescued him from an angel. Just as he'd thought his day couldn't get any weirder...

~*~

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in! A senile hunter and a retarded angel – or was it renegade?" one of the demons hollered mockingly as they entered the church. Although Castiel had finished warding the build against his kin, the salt lines hadn't been completed in time. He was sure he hadn't got enough energy left to exorcise them all quick enough before they could hurt Bobby or the Pater and both humans were too far away for him to reach and transport away in a timely manner. Castiel straightened his form and called out to take precautions before he proceeded to burn those demons from the face of the earth.

Agony, then everything just vanished.

~*~

Thankfully the priest didn't question Bobby as he hollered at him to cover his eyes. He really did not want another person to have his eyes burnt out by the Angel accidentally. However, the sensation of hot and searing light sweeping over them didn't come. Instead he heard the ringleader laugh: "As I said - retarded!"

When Bobby opened his eyes again the first thing he saw was the slightly shivering body of Castiel, curled up into a ball on the floor surrounded by demons. The second thing he noticed was the slightly blue priest gasping for air pressed against a wall just a few feet to his left.

"So you're bothering the injured or innocent now? How brave. Afraid an old hunter like me would kick your asses?!"

That made all three heads turn his way. So, now that he had their attention he should hurry up with this plan of his. Unfortunately he first had to come up with any kind of plan at all...


	12. Chapter 12

Father Ignatius had heard everything the newcomers had said. Still he wasn't sure he could trust his ears. Demons? Real demons? And the young man that was lying on the floor cringing in pain - an angel?! But then he heard the older man that was pinned to a wall next to him starting to chant - the Exorcism of the Rituale Romanum - and the hell spawn staggered. He could feel the grip of their powers fading a little - he was not imagining things!

"I've got an idea!" he whispered, "Just keep them occupied!"

The other man kept throwing Latin at the demons' heads while the priest felt the evil forces keeping him in place slowly weaken further. Soon he would be able to move...

Of course it couldn't be that easy. One of the demons managed to silence the man pinned next to Father Ignatius the very moment the priest could move again. Although he darted towards his room in the back of the old church, he knew he wouldn't be able to make it in time.

"The parson is trying to flee!"

"Just let him, I wanna practice my aim."

"He's right, let him run. He's a priest, he won't abandon them."

Something flew past Father Ignatius's head - one of the leather bound song books. He tried to duck while still running but the next tome hit him that hard on the back the priest went down.

Books after books kept hurling themselves at the Father, making him stumble instead of sprinting towards the simple wooden door behind the altar. He had to reach it. Again a tome smacked into the priest's back adding another bruise. He was nearly there. A few more steps...

Something else flew through the air - a massive candle holder. If it had hit the priest he was sure it would have cracked his skull open. The game was over. Now the demons were using the real stuff.

~*~

As Father Ignatius closed the door he sighed deeply, relief flooding his body. Something crashed hard against the old wood, made the door rattle and the priest jump, reminding him that there were only a few unsound boards between himself and the hell spawn. He still had to hurry.

Frantically he opened his drawers, searching through stacks of books, muttering "Come on, where is it? Dammit, where?" He hadn't opened the book in years, never thought he'd ever need to. But right now he was glad he had kept it near. There! He pulled the old and used looking tome from one of his stacks and opened it immediately. Even the pendant was still there.

~*~

When Father Ignatius opened the door and stepped into the semicircular apse he clutched the old book to his chest. From behind the altar he could see that one of the demons was teasing the older man while the two others were occupied with the injured angel. None of them was paying attention as he slowly and very cautiously sneaked through Choir and Crossing, ducking behind the rows of wooden pews, taking every cover he could get. His destination was already only a few meters away.

There was a clear area with nothing to hide behind that the priest had to cross in order to reach the richly ornamented column. Father Ignatius glanced over his cover noticing the hell spawn torturing the man would be able to see him clearly if the priest would have tried to run to his destination. He needed some kind of diversion. Something to make all demons look in the other direction...

A loud groan, the audible rustling of feathers and a cry full of pain caught the attention of everybody. Father Ignatius tried not to think what might have caused that sound as he sprinted towards the column and hid behind the wooden stairs leading up to the church's pulpit. If he managed to climb the old steps without the creaking wood giving away his position – and intention – too soon he might be able to use the sound system to his benefit. Up at the wooden pulpit the demons would not be able to spot him easily and hopefully none of the hell spawn could manage to work his powers without line of sight.

Father Ignatius knew the steps were anything but quiet. Every single one creaked or squeaked or squealed depending on where and how you stepped on it. He had never tried to find a silent path. But if he tried to remember perhaps he could avoid at least the loudest spots. The demons were arguing now. One snubbing the others for... well... the priest wasn't quite sure. It was because the Angel had been too loud but he frankly had no idea what the hell spawns were up to and the voices were – although agitated – still too low for him to understand everything.

Finally Father Ignatius had reached the microphone, pulled it cautiously down and opened the book at the right page before hitting the 'ON' switch. A loud whistling noise howled through the speakers. Ok... now he had the attention of everybody the priest was sure. He had better start reading soon...

Sancte Michael Archangele,  
defende nos in proelio;  
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.  
Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur:  
tuque, Princeps militiae Caelestis,  
satanam aliosque spiritus malignos,  
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo,  
divina virtute in infernum detrude.  
Amen.

Father Ignatius could hear commotion. A new, young voice was yelling: "Cas! Dammit! Bobby!" and a different one let out warning "Dean!" Sounds of shuffling feet. Frantic steps. Cautiously the priest stood, peeked down and noticed three other people had entered his church.

A young one, Goliath with a noticeable lack of a haircut, was fighting against one of the demons, his only weapon a knife. Another man, older but still young in comparison to the priest himself, clad in an expensive suit tossed a dagger at the third newcomer who caught the weapon with practiced ease and drove it into the demon next to him in one fluent movement. Although Father Ignatius could not help noticing the predatory grace the slightly bowlegged young man displayed, it was the other man, the one in the suit that hadn't interfered other from handing the dagger to his comrade, that caught the priest's attention. That guy was surrounded by an aura of power. Much stronger than all of the three demons together. And he too was unmistakably of Lucifer's retinue. Or... Perhaps it was the Devil himself?!

~*~

It was way too easy killing those sons of bitches that had attacked Cas and Bobby. With Crowley canceling their demonic powers they weren't harder to fight than the average guy – no, they were actually easier because those demons had been relying on their forces for so long they didn't know how to fight with their own – well, their vessel's own arms and legs. And the sight of Castiel lying motionless inside some kind of pseudo-Devil's Trap, the shadows of his huge wing clearly visible on the cold stone floor added to his rage, made his fight even more deadly.

It didn't take both Winchesters longer than perhaps half a minute, then all three demons were bloody corpses that stained the stone floor. Dean gestured his brother to look after Bobby while he stepped to Crowley who was crouched down next to the circle Castiel was lying inside.

"DON'T TOUCH!"

The older Winchester flinched heavily at the outburst.

"Hey, easy, relax man." Dean retreated a bit.

"Do. Not. Touch," Crowley repeated in a low voice but with no less firmness.

Dean took a closer look at the elaborate drawing on the floor careful not to actually step onto the lines while trying to ignore those fateful shadows of his friend's wings. It looked vaguely like a Devil's Trap mixed with the angel summoning stuff he had seen in the Key of Solomon Bobby owned and a few Enochian letters thrown in for good measure. He was sure the blood that had been used to produce the strange painting was Castiel's own. So, as Crowley not only ran a finger through one of the thick and sticky lines, but licked the rich crimson from his forefinger, Dean was understandably disgusted.

"Dude! What the fuck?!"

"Shh..."

The demon again dragged a digit through the drawing only to proceed sucking the blood from his finger. Dean shuddered with repulsion.

"Sweet... Mhm... There is nothing better then fresh angel blood." Crowley looked up at Dean smirking slightly as he noticed how nauseated and appalled the hunter looked. "... at least not for things like this trap." The Demon stood up again, straightened his clothes while he said incidentally, "He's safe to be touched now."

~*~

Dean had just kneeled down and was looking for the Angel's pulse as Crowley's voice suddenly filled the old Navis, resounding from the stone walls: "Pater. It's save to come out of the wood again." Still loud enough for his words to echo back and forth but this time directed at Sam who was helping Bobby to limp over to them and at Dean who had finally found a weak and irregular heartbeat the demon elaborated, "The good padre has prevented those thugs from inflicting serious damage with his exorcism. Luckily I am not prone to such weak rituals like the Prayer to Saint Michael. Otherwise this fight might have ended differently."

While the hesitant footsteps of the priest could be heard on the old wooden stairs Bobby - still leaning heavily on Sam - spoke up, "Dean, please take care of Castiel. I'm sure the Father will help you although I don't know how much he witnessed." Then the old hunter turned to the demon. "So, you are Crowley. The idjit that gave a useless weapon to my boys and sent them off to shoot the Devil? We two are gonna have a talk. Now."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN:** Finally I have a beta *yay* and because poor **citizencandy** had to read through this monster-fic and she likes her Dean with Castiel-topping be warned of slash ahead :)

* * *

Father Ignatius helped Dean carry the unconscious angel into the small room the priest lived in. The bed wasn't particularly big but it thankfully wasn't Sam's gigantic frame they had to cope with. As soon as Castiel was lying on his back, Dean started to open the borrowed button-down the Angel was wearing to search for injuries. Before the hunter opened the shirt completely to reveal his friend's torso he remembered the priest standing next to him. Perhaps it was best if he didn't spot the carvings in Castiel's skin...

"Uhm, Father... Do you have a first aid kit? And I'll need a needle to stitch him up, have any dental silk or something like that?"

"Of course," Father Ignatius muttered before he hurried off to the small adjoining bathroom. He would be back soon so Dean had to hurry.

The stab wound was deep, still leaking more blood than he was comfortable with, but the hunter was relieved as he realized there were no organs damaged. The injury would be a bitch to heal, but as soon as Dean would be finished applying stitches, Castiel would no longer be in immediate danger. Hopefully.

The hunter let his hands run over ribs, testing for fractures or major bruises while he studied the angry red marks where the Angel had been beaten up by the demons. He was sure they must have been kicking him when Castiel had been already on the floor. Anger was rising inside of Dean at that thought. Although he had already killed them, he suddenly wished they were alive once more so he could... A soft moan brought the hunter's thoughts back. Castiel was regaining consciousness again.

"Cas! Come on! Open your eyes! Cas, you're hurt, can you heal yourself?"

The answering groan was not very elaborate, still the hunter knew what is friend wanted to say. No, the Angel was currently not able to mend any of his injuries. He sighed heavily

~*~.

"What happened in there?" Dean asked softly pointing back to the Navis with his head.

But the Angel did not answer his question. He shuddered lightly, eyes still clenched shut, body trembling with pain ever so often.

It was the priest who answered while returning to them, first aid and sewing kit in his arms. "Your friend told me to cover my eyes. Next thing I knew, he was lying on the floor retching."

Retching. Right. He must have been in considerable amount of pain, probably still was. "Do you have anything against the pain? Paracetamol? Or you wouldn't happen to have some kind of Morphine?"

"Well, I have some analgesics for my migraine... I think I could crush a few of the pills and dissolve in water..." Again the priest hurried towards the little bathroom.

The hunter tenderly put his palm on Castiel's forehead. At least no fever. He had no clue what was wrong with his friend but obviously the strange carvings in his skin were part of it. He had better get started sewing him up soon. Without the priest looking too closely. Dean sighed. He had no idea how to get rid of Father Ignatius without being rude. He had probably already witnessed too much...

With a shrug, the hunter turned towards the returning priest. As soon as Castiel had had the pain meds he could finally start to work.

~*~

"He's a real angel?" the priest asked in a low voice. There was awe mixed with disbelief – Dean didn't blame him. He hadn't guessed there were things like angels in the first place although he had known about demons roaming the earth for years.

The hunter just nodded as an answer, busily stitching up his quivering friend. He didn't like being grilled by Father Ignatius, but the alternative was to face the emotional chaos raging inside him. So the interrogation was the lesser evil.

"...and your friend."

Again Dean affirmed.

"You called him Cas..."

"Castiel."

The priest furrowed his brow and searched his memories before he nodded slowly. "A seraph. Angel of one of the days of the week... Isn't he supposed to be one of God's soldiers? A warrior?"

The hunter looked up at the priest's face while he nodded, not entirely sure what would be the point the other man was trying to make. It took him a few moments before realization dawned.

"You think he isn't particularly good in hand to hand combat for a soldier? And he looks kinda small and mousy for a mighty warrior of the Lord?"

Father Ignatius shrugged, obviously waiting for him to continue. Again the hunter pierced the needle though his friend's flesh, making Castiel flinch heavily for the first time since he had started applying stitches, causing a fresh stream of sticky blood to pour over his fingers. Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his ragged nerves, swallow down the rising nausea and concentrated on their conversation.

"Well, he kinda sucks at melee but he... um... he's really good with his... his... angel... stick."

The pater raised his eyebrows. "His... angel stick?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer when his brain finally caught up with his mouth. "No, no... it's some kind of weapon. A... a knife."

"...daea..."

Both priest and hunter looked at the Angel with surprise. He was fighting to focus his bleary eyes, blinking at Dean, but he was conscious again.

"Cas?"

The Angel took a shaky breath and tried again. This time the mumbled word was more intelligible: "Dagg'r."

"Dagger? What dagger? Oh... you mean, your weapon is some kind of dagger!" A grin spread across the hunter's face. "Buddy, one moment I thought you'd lost it... How about you answer the Father's questions while I finish stitching you up? Poor Jimmy 's probably missing his blood already." Dean knew he was rambling but the waves of relief rushing through his system had his mouth disconnected from his brain again.

"I shall... answer your questions, Pater Ignatius," Castiel agreed weakly while his eyes focused slowly on the slim frame of the priest.

The other man didn't need to be told twice. Seemingly there were a lot of questions on the Father's mind. "Why are angels suddenly walking among us? Is it the Day of Judgment? To lay waste to one third of earth?"

Castiel licked his dry lips obviously not sure how to reply as Dean answered Father Ignatius question with a forceful "No!" After a moment the hunter added, "He's actually the only one of them who tried his best to prevent the Apocalypse!" How could the priest even assume Castiel would do such a thing? With hindsight the Angel nearly had. But this wasn't something Dean was gonna let him know.

"Tried?" Father Ignatius looked at him like he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Yeah, crap. Now there was no going back, he had to spill the beans. "Well... we kinda failed. Lucifer walks free, Armageddon is here, the end is nigh, yada yada yada."

"Ooh..."

There was a long pause afterwards.

~*~

As soon as the priest had left the Navis with Dean and the unconscious Angel Bobby turned to the smirking demon again. He scrutinized the dark haired man, took in his self-assured stance, the dark eyes sparkling with intelligence, hands crossed behind his back, pristine suit, gleaming black shoes.

The old hunter knew about the box suddenly turning up in the boys' motel room one day after Sam accidentally freed Lucifer. The box with both the Colt and a letter with the whereabouts of the Devil. They had called afterwards, told him how Dean had shot Lucifer just for him to vanish and leave a dying body behind. A soon to be corpse with about twenty demons assaulting them the instant Lucifer's blinding light was gone.

Up until now, neither Bobby nor the Winchester boys had been able to come up with a reasonable explanation on how they had managed to escape. With the Colt.

"So," the old hunter started eying the demon closely. "Where did you get the Colt?"

"I bought it. From a woman – I think you know her. She called herself Bela." The demon eyed him cockily.

"And why did you give it to the boys? You are a demon! Why does a demon want the Devil to die?!"

Crowley answered with a smile: "You see, Lucifer might have created us but to him we are just pawns. Grunts. Dispensable. He doesn't care if one or one thousand of us die. He hates us nearly as much as he hates you. What do you think happens after he has wiped out humankind? Hm...? Right, he'll turn on us next, put an end to each and every demon in existence. And while you might think this is a good thing, don't forget you will all already be dead at that point. So isn't it prudent to join forces? We can settle our own dispute afterwards because we will still be alive. If we don't work together there won't be anybody left. Neither on your, nor on my side. "

Although Bobby had to admit the demon's speech made sense, he was not inclined to take his words for granted and trust him. There still was another issue that the old hunter needed to address.

"Did you know that the Colt won't harm Lucifer?"

Crowley shook his head with a sigh. "No. I might have had a hunch, but the Colt being the most potent weapon ever built by human hands, I still hoped that it would at least be able to hurt Lucifer. I was wrong. I apologize."

Bobby nodded slowly, letting the demon's words sink. Cowley was not an average hell spawn, he had been Lilith's right hand, her lieutenant, head of the crossroads demons after her death. Too valuable an ally to turn down his offer beforehand.

"Interrogation finished? Because this church still isn't warded properly and there are quite a few hunting parties out there that would love to chase down Angel boy or Laurel and Hardy."

Bobby huffed his agreement. "Right. What are you waiting for, the bag of salt is over there!"

~*~

"So..." Father Ignatius continued their conversation as Dean had finished applying stitches and was now trying to improvise some kind of dressing for the stab wound. The first aid kit wasn't dimensioned for an injury of that scale. "So, you are here to fight against Lucifer. And there are other angels around, too?"

Castiel nodded.

"Because I thought we might need a little help... here..."

"They won't help us." Castiel's breath hitched a little as the hunter carefully taped the first dressing across injured flesh so the better part of the wound was covered.

Dean sighed when he saw the frown on Father Ignatius' face. How were they to explain to a priest that practically all angels were dicks? "Let's just say they are more interested in fighting against Lucifer's army than making sure no humans are hurt in the process," the hunter finally answered the unspoken question.

"Collateral damage?" Father Ignatius sounded surprisingly composed.

"A hell of a lot of collateral damage, if we can't stop Lucifer in time."

~*~

Dean could tell the exact time the pain meds started to work. Castiel's rigid stance eased, the tight muscles in his jaw relaxed and the Angel exhaled a shaky breath full of relief before his eyes began dropping again.

"Cas, can you heal yourself... a bit?" Perhaps now with the pain gone he would be able to gather enough strength?

"...weak... mornin'...," the Angel muttered before his breath evened out and Dean knew his friend was finally asleep.

~*~

Sam watched with folded arms as Crowley drew salt lines in front of both side entrances. He had heard every word Bobby and the demon had spoken and there were still a lot of things on his mind that needed to be sorted out. Unfortunately the old hunter had other plans.

"Sam, whatever you are brooding over, stop it and help Crowley. And keep an eye on him, I still don't think we should trust him."

~*~

It was already getting dark outside when Crowley drew the last line in chalk. Now the church was warded against every demon in creation – except himself. He straightened his figure, stretched tired muscles and slowly looked at the entire Navis. The older Winchester and the renegade Angel were still inside the priest's chamber. While the younger brother had kept a watchful eye on the demon the entire time he had worked on the wards, Bobby and the priest had started talking quite some time ago. They were both sitting next to the altar – the farther away from Crowley they could get while still staying inside the small church. Although his senses were way better than those of a mere human, he had not been able to perceive more than a few scraps of conversation.

Crowley watched as Sam joined the two older men while the demon wiped his hands clean on his handkerchief. He still wasn't sure if it had been the right decision to help the Winchesters. Of course the chances of he himself succeeding in killing the Devil were zero, but until now he had seen nothing than a bunch of morons fooling around and nearly getting themselves killed. The Winchesters – and the old hunter – had a reputation amongst demons, a reputation of being deadly, nearly invincible and very dangerous, albeit a bit daft too... Crowley strongly hoped they would show their dangerous side pretty soon. Slowly he started walking towards the three men.

"...don't have many supplies," he heard the tall hunter say with a worried frown on his face.

The priest shrugged, answering, "I normally don't eat here. Although I do have a kitchenette. It's just badly stocked."

"We should not leave the church. We are safe inside, but out there are still angels and demons wanting to collect the bounty. And none of us would be able to fight them." Bobby pointed out.

Crowley sighed. Now he had to play delivery service, too. He knew why he disliked humans. The demon pulled a notepad and a ball point pen out of his pocket, clothed his face in a friendly smile and said cheerfully, "Please place your orders."

~*~

As night fell upon the small church the cold started to creep through each and every crack, seeping out of the heavy stone walls, engulfing the small group of refugees. Father Ignatius found two old quilts in one of his drawers, enough for Sam and Bobby not to freeze into hunter-icicles. Although Crowley too felt the numbing cold inside his bones, he would be able to get through the night without a blanket. That just left the priest himself and Dean. The demon hoped neither of them was gormless enough to let the cold make them hypothermic.

~*~

Dean watched as father Ignatius carried a few woolen quilts out into the huge Navis of the old Church. Although it was nearly summer, the stone building seemed to radiate coldness. He had already put his hands into his pockets, still the older brother shivered lightly. Sitting on his butt the entire time didn't exactly help getting warm either, but he just did not want to leave Castiel alone. Not even for a few minutes. As the priest returned, Dean apologized softly not to wake his friend, "Father, I'm sorry we're occupying your room..."

"Don't worry, son," the older man answered with a small smile. "Your friend needs my bed more than I do." His expression - while still soft - became serious again. "Besides I am not going to sleep this night. The things that happened today inside the church... It nearly desecrated this place so I have a lot of work to do."

Only moments after the priest had left the chamber again, Dean heard a soft groan followed by a whisper of his name.

"Hey, Cas. How are you?" Dean scooted a bit closer to understand the Angel's soft voice.

"I'm... cold?" The Angel frowned slightly obviously not used to this feeling and not sure if he got the signs his vessel was sending him right. He was indeed shivering slightly.

"Sorry, no radiator in here. I'll ask the priest if he's got another blanket for you, 'kay?"

He was already halfway through the door as Castiel's whisper made him stop.

"Dean...?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay, please."

With a sigh he settled on the small wooden chair again. It really was getting cold in here. He half expected to see his breath as white puffs every time he exhaled. Dean was wondering whether he should stand up and start walking around in the small room to warm up again as he noticed the tiny sound coming from the bed. Soft, rhythmic clattering - Castiel's teeth. Dean had to do something. He considered leaving despite his friend's protest to search for Father Ignatius but the priest probably didn't have another blanket to spare anyway. And he too was freezing... So the only solution was...

Dean eyed the small bed for at least five minutes trying to gather his courage.

"Oh, fuck it," he muttered, stood up and crouched down next to the Angel's head.

"Cas... I know you are freezing... We could... you know... share body heat. That is, if you don't mind me lying down next to you."

Of course the Angel didn't mind. The guy who didn't get the concept of personal space surely wasn't afraid of another person near. So Dean quickly slipped under the covers without exposing the shivering Angel to too much cold air. The bed wasn't exactly big, but somehow they would cope. At least now they both no longer were freezing their asses off.

~*~

It was still early in the morning as Sam decided to look after his brother and Castiel. Perhaps he wanted him to watch over the Angel so the older hunter too could catch a few hours of sleep. He carefully opened the door, not wanting to wake Castiel in case he was still asleep. What the young hunter saw was nothing he had been expecting. Dean and the Angel were not only sharing a bed, they were... well... cuddling. Castiel's head was resting on Dean's shoulder, his arm sprawled over the hunter's stomach, hand resting above his heart. Dean's head was turned towards the Angel, nose buried deep inside dark and unruly hair. Both were still fast asleep. Sam blinked in bewilderment before a tiny smile spread across his lips. Deciding to let them sleep for another hour, he softly closed the door again.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** Again thanks to candy for not only being a great beta but for making Crowley sound british, too :)

* * *

It was cozily warm, the smell of… of love and caring filled his nostrils. A steady hand resting heavily on his hip. A leg was squeezed between his thighs, firmly pressing against his groin, making his morning wood happily pulse in anticipation. Without thinking, Dean moved his hips, thrust once, twice at the body next to him before finally his brain kick started and prevented him from… Dammit! Dean hastily moved away from Castiel, unintentionally pulling the blanket off, exposing the Angel to the cool air while his feet got caught up in the comforter. He had overestimated the width of the small bed, suddenly there was no mattress under his butt and with flailing arms Dean landed on the floor, still partly entangled in the blanket but much less covered than he would have liked.

"Dean…?" Deep blue eyes, still a bit sleepy, looked at him and then started roaming over his supine body. He tried to hide the still prominent bulge in his boxers in vain. The damn blanket was half way buried under his own ass; he could not simply turn away since Castiel was lying on another corner of the comforter, and putting his hands over his crotch would just draw the Angel's attention to that part of Dean's anatomy. With a groan he started untangling his feet from the unyielding blanket.

"Dean? Did I… did I shove you?"

"No, Cas. This bed is just not built for two grown men. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep, okay?"

With a slight moan Castiel let his head fall back onto the pillow as Dean finally succeeded in disentangling himself from the comforter. He swiftly put on his jeans wondering at what point he had undressed - he could not remember shedding his pants for the life of him. When Dean sat down on the bed, fully clothed again, Castiel was still awake.

"How're you feelin', Cas?" He had a long and close look at his friend while waiting for him to answer. Castiel was still way too pale but there were no longer lines of pain etched into his face. The slightly flushed cheeks hopefully meant only fever and not that he knew about Dean unceremoniously dry humping his helpless, sleeping form.

"Better." After a moment of silence Castiel added softly, "Thank you, Dean, for keeping me warm."

"No sweat…" He felt heat rise to his face and, not wanting the Angel to see him blushing, he stood up and made a few steps towards the door. "I'm gonna check out what we'll have for breakfast. If you need anything, holler."

~*~

As soon as Dean had left the room Castiel, closed his eyes again. He was still exhausted, but the restful sleep had helped restore a bit of his power. He carefully tapped into it, measured the amount needed to heal his stab wound and began to calculate. It would leave him drained and weak for hours if he fixed his latest injury but after another extended rest he would be less of a burden again. Castiel was even positive he had warded off the church enough that such small display of Grace would not alarm his kin to his current whereabouts.

Speaking of… Slowly he expanded his angelic senses, scanning his surroundings. He noticed the strong aura of Dean, the somewhat tainted colors of Sam. The sharp and edged feeling of Bobby's seasoned being. There was a man full of devotion and commitment - quite likely the priest. And… and another entity. A dark - nearly black - shade of purple, stained with the spiky scent of sulphur. Marbled with rich red streaks, the color of fresh blood, glittering and shining like liquefied rubies. A demon. A demon he had become acquainted with over the course of the last millennias. Crowley.

The detection of Crowley was enough to convince Castiel to attempt to heal himself. He did not want the demon to see him like this. Weak. Hurt. Bleeding. _Human_. He took a deep breath. Slowly let his ribs expand despite the aching, newly mended cracks - breathing out quickly turned into a hearty yawn he was not able to stifle. Cautiously, he let his Grace expand, touch the injured flesh and encourage his vessel's cells to start mending. A gentle nudge here, a careful tug there and bit by bit, excruciatingly slowly, he felt the wound becoming smaller. New, pink skin stretching over fresh tissue.

A rush of nausea and vertigo threatened to drown Castiel just as he was about to fold his Grace back away. He genuinely hoped he had succeeded in concealing his angelic energy once again before darkness claimed him.

~*~

"Why, again, should we trust you?" Dean asked, munching on a donut - a donut Crowley had brought, but that wasn't the point. Besides, if the Demon wanted him dead he would have had enough opportunities to end him till now.

"Perhaps because I gave you the Colt? Or perhaps because I got your sorry arses back to your motel room afterwards? Oh, or perhaps because I helped rescuing your pet Angel from the other feather-brains? And perhaps because I locked the feathery overlord away and got you both here in time to save your friend's arse _again?"_

"Wait. What Angels did you help rescue Castiel from?" Sam asked before Dean could say anything else.

"The ones that tortured him? The ones that carved him up and used his skin as a scroll? The ones that bound his Grace to this meagre excuse of a vessel? You didn't _really_ think there have been no other guards down there? The two demons you scraged were the last two surviving. The others died killing the bloody Angels that had captured your friend."

"Oh..." Sam looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. But his brother just asked a question of his own.

"You said you locked Zach up? You mean, you _banished_ him, right?"

"No. I said locked away because I _meant_ locked away. He will surely be back but it might take some time."

"You'll have to show me that trick..." Dean grinned cockily.

"Sure, but you'd have to have a demon willing to sacrifice himself at hand," Crowley answered with a grin of his own, his voice smug and full of sarcasm. "So, we're okay now?"

"I'm still not sure if we _should_ trust you," Bobby finally said. "But as for now, I'd say we'll hear you out."

"Hear..._ hear me out_?!" Crowley looked at the old hunter exasperatedly. "Ten of my people died only in the last few days trying to keep your sorry little group alive and you...!"

"Calm down. The last demon one of us trusted got him all hooked up on demon blood and made him free the damn Devil himself!"

Sam blushed at Bobby's words and studied the floor beneath his feet thoroughly. He had still no idea how to even _start_ apologizing. They had been dancing around this topic for days now, never speaking directly about it. Just once, immediately after they had fled Saint Mary's, Dean had asked whether Sam was craving demon blood and needed to be locked up again. But somehow this last display of power had left him dry like the Sahara. There was nothing left inside of him, every last trace burned out and no withdrawal at all. Having rubbed his failure now into his face again was something Sam would have liked to avoid.

"True words," Crowley nodded.

"So, you've got a plan? 'Cause I ain't gonna believe you just showed up _now_ to bring Dean donuts!" Bobby said, his arms crossed in front of his chest, shooting the older Winchester a disapproving look as the younger man proceeded to stuff his fifth piece of pastry into his mouth.

"Okay, no more small talk, I guess," Crowley shrugged still looking way too smug for Dean's liking. "I'd like to take a look at the inscription first." After he was met with frowns and confusion he added, "The inscription on the Angel's skin."

~*~

Dean refused to let the demon near Castiel as long as his friend was still asleep. Noon had long passed and afternoon slowly started to become evening, when _finally_ the Angel stirred. To say Dean was worried would have been a vast understatement. As he noticed his friend's eyelids fluttering, he sighed in genuine relief.

"Cas, dammit. Don't ever pull a stunt like this on me again!"

Bleary eyes blinked at him before the Angel whispered in a raw voice, "I am sorry. Healing the stab wound drained me more than I had anticipated."

Dean nodded wordlessly, too many emotions raging under the surface for him to trust his voice. He had already noticed the fresh, pink and shiny skin stretching across the Angel's stomach instead of an angry red injury earlier when he had wanted to re-dress the wound.

"Cas... don't get all worked up, okay? But we... We kinda have a demon outside that just wants to talk. He helped..."

"Crowley," Castiel interrupted him, his voice calm as ever.

Dean nodded slowly. His friend must have overheard them talking in the Navis. After all, angelic senses were obviously still superior even if the Angel in question was hurt. Dean studied his friend closely. He was still too pale, dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes, cheeks flushed from the fever. But he could no longer see pain dulling the clear blue depths of his eyes. Although tired, he seemed alert again. Alert enough to let a possibly plotting demon near him?

"I assume he is waiting, Dean. One doesn't let Crowley wait."

The hunter frowned. Did Castiel know the demon?

"Please help me sit up. And I would prefer being fully dressed again."

~*~

Getting Castiel dressed proved to be more difficult than anticipated. It wasn't that the Angel didn't help - in fact Dean had to stop him keeling over to one side twice because his eagerness had gotten him more than just a bit dizzy. No, it was solely Dean's fault.

He marveled at Castiel's (Jimmy's) smooth skin, wanted to kiss that frown from his face, let the soft dark hair covering his chest and belly tickle over the palms of his hands (and boy, there was _a lot_ of hair), follow it down, towards the distinguished happy trail, down, even more south...

Dean gathered his thoughts right in time to look away as he helped Castiel into fresh underwear (the guy had went commando under the old pair of sweat pants - who the heck had dressed him? Dean couldn't remember it anymore, but thinking proved to be a bit more difficult than usual when enough blood was rushing south to make his jeans suddenly too tight).

Castiel stretched a bit, helping Dean getting a new tee over his head - oh, those sharp hip bones, that begged him to lick their angled edges... With an annoyed groan he shoved those thoughts away. He was not _gay._ Okay, Doctor Sexy was sexy, but... Actually... Okay, perhaps he swung both ways, whatever. But why was he getting the hots for Cas _now,_ after the guy had been around for an entire year?!

With another sigh he helped his friend pull the shirt down and noticed with a smirk that Cas' hair was even more ruffled than usual. With the borrowed, slightly too big clothes and his sex-hair (ugh, sex-hair? Had his brain suddenly turned into a 14 year old fan girl's?) the Angel looked just adorable. Hastily Dean erased the fond smile from his lips before anybody would notice it. Damn. He was _so_ screwed.

~*~

Sam waited patiently while Dean was inside the priest's chamber. Father Ignatius had been extremely quiet except for a small chat directly after Sam had woken up. Obviously, he wasn't as spooked as he should have been considering the fact that a bunch of demons had tried to sacrifice an Angel inside his church just yesterday. But the priest kept shooting glances towards Crowley. Not exactly fearful but cautious, estimating looks, as if he wasn't sure what to think of a hell spawn who claimed he was on their side, who said he wanted to kill the Devil. Sam could definitely understand where father Ignatius was coming from.

At one point, his thoughts wandered back to the scene he had stumbled into inadvertently this morning. His brother snuggled up to Castiel. They had both looked so… peaceful… at ease... _carefree_. Of course he had noticed the longing looks they used to shoot each others when they thought nobody was watching. The tension between those two had always been nearly tangible, and more than once Sam had suspected that maybe there was more to Dean and Castiel than just plain friendship. It looked like he had been right.

Finally the door opened, and a flustered Dean led them in. Sam wondered what those two had been doing in there while they had been waiting outside but those thoughts were forgotten as soon as everybody had entered the small chamber.

Castiel was dressed in one of Dean's trousers (the one with the hole in the right knee), a maroon t-shirt and a plain, dark grey button down – and all three pieces of clothing were clearly too big for his lithe frame. He still looked ill and tired but when his eyes turned to Crowley there was suddenly something hard and deadly in them that reminded Sam of his otherworldliness.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel was standing in front of the demon, crowding him. One hand was fisting Cowley's expensive suit and lifting him in the air, pressed up against the wall while Castiel put his other hand, fingers outstretched, on the demon's forehead. Sam had seen this modus operandi before – the Angel was about to burn the demon out of his meat suit. Crowley must have come to the same realization as his eyes were suddenly frantically searching for an escape. But nothing happened. Nothing other than Castiel swaying a bit. A heart beat later Crowley was in full control of the situation again.

~*~

Castiel gathered his power to exorcize the demon Crowley and willed the hell spawn away from this plane of existence. Heat rushed through his body, down his outstretched hand towards the palm sprawled over the other vessel's forehead. The hot feeling mixed with cold, burning and numbing his senses at the same time. It felt different, _wrong_. Something icy spread from the base of his head and in that moment Castiel realized that he had made a mistake. He was no longer able to use his Grace to burn away demons - at least demons as powerful as Crowley. And now he was going to faint. In front of Crowley. This was a humiliation he would have gladly avoided.

The impact came suddenly and surprised Castiel as he had not noticed his body – his _vessel_ – moving. His head bounced off the wall once and dark fog filled his vision. The colors grew darker, the entire world had a purple tinge, as Dean's face appeared directly in front of his. The other man's mouth moved but without actual words coming out, Castiel had time to marvel at the sight. He liked Dean's mouth. He liked it when it pouted, he liked it when it opened to speak. He loved to watch it devouring food, but his favorite sight was Dean's mouth when it smiled. Which it sadly wasn't doing right now. Its corners were turned down and the face attached to this mouth looked worried, too.

~*~

"Cas! Dammit! Cas? Do you hear me? Talk to me, buddy!" Dean was hovering over Castiel but his friend just blinked dazedly. Still kneeling next to the Angel on the bed, he turned around enough to shoot Crowley an livid look. "What the fuck did you do? Why did you have to fling him across the room, for fuck's sake?!"

Crowley was still standing pressed against the wall where Castiel had tried to banish him only seconds earlier, but now Sam was crowding him, the demon-killing knife at the shorter man's throat.

"He attempted to exorcize me. I was just defending myself. Now come on, remove this bloody knife and let me talk to hotspurt there before he does something equally daft. Like killing himself with another display of his 'Heavenly Powers'!"

~*~

The next thing Castiel knew was that something cool and liquid was in his mouth. He half sputtered the water out, half swallowed it down as he tried to gulp in air. Somebody was pressing a glass to his mouth, letting more of the clear water run into his mouth. This time Castiel managed to swallow most of it.

Dean.

Dean was supplying him with water.

Why was he half way lying in the hunter's lap?

His back supported by one of the man's strong arms while the other one was holding the now empty glass.

How did he end up…

Crowley!

He forced himself upright again and tried to stand up to lurch towards the demon, murder in his eyes again, as a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Cas! Knock it off. He's not here to kill us. He's here to help. Now sit down before you fall to the floor again." Dean seemed angry. Angry because he had tried to kill a demon? With a confused frown he let his friend lead him back towards the small bed again.

"Nice to meet you again, Castiel," the demon said with a smug grin.

"Crowley," he nodded in reply.

"Looks like we have another tie to add to our score."

Before Castiel could answer, Dean stated, somewhat baffled, "Wait! You two know each other?"

This time Crowley nodded in reply. "How long has it been? When did you try to kill me for the first time?"

"Two thousand years?"

Still smiling, the demon turned to Dean again and answered, "Your mate has unsuccessfully tried to end my existence for _at least_ the last two thousand years. So, yes, I'd say we know each other."

"Mate?! No, no no no, he is definitely _not_ my partner!" Dean was quick to deny. Castiel felt a sharp pain inside his heart at his friend's words.

"Actually, I didn't want to imply anything, but now… I think you are right, there is some kind of connection between the two of you. Considering how you got all cosy during the night…"

"Crowley…" Castiel growled. He wanted nothing more than to rip the demon to small shreds using just his own – his _vessel's _– own hands.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Last time you tried to kill me it took me about two hundred years 'till I was in form again."

Castiel nodded. "It took about the same time for me to recover fully." He could recall their last encounter quite vividly. It had ended in a really nasty fight with half a town destroyed. Of course Uriel had been there, too. The main part of the destruction had been his doing. However…

"So, I'd say we call a truce and you let me take a look at those symbols on your body."

With a sigh Castiel pulled up his shirt.


End file.
